The Weight of Command
by Kavery12
Summary: How far would you go to rescue a friend? One Starfleet crew is about to find out.
1. Lost and Not Found

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

Although not exactly a sequel as such, this follows after _Diplomatic Conflict Resolution_ and may shape up to be the next saga-length story. Let me know what you think!

* * *

_Prologue_

_Impala – Neutral Zone _

"Well, we are officially way up shit creek without a paddle," Captain Dean Winchester declared with false cheer from his command chair, trying and failing to keep himself from counting the large number of hostile ships arrayed against the _Impala_. No warp speed, no weapons, faltering shields and no communications, _Impala_ was deep in the middle of nowhere with no allies to back her up.

"Or a canoe," his brother added unhelpfully, wiping at a sluggishly bleeding cut on his forehead and coughing on the haze of smoke choking the battered bridge.

"Yes, thank you Commander Obvious."

Lieutenant Luke Castiel swivelled around in his chair to face his captain, mild confusion written all over his face. "I do not understand. There is no such thing as Shit Creek in space and we do not need a paddle or a canoe in this instance."

Dean chuckled, causing Castiel's confusion to shift over to annoyance. The kid still didn't get most colloquialisms and it was always funny to watch the pilot try and puzzle out the hidden meaning.

He wished he could have saved Cas and Jo at least. They were the innocents on board, the ones who hadn't had cynicism beaten into their cells by life just yet. He didn't dare think that about Sam – if the younger Winchester knew Dean was considering leaving him behind, Sam would nail his ass to the closest wall before Dean could blink.

"Dean?" Sam asked and the captain was yanked from his thoughts. They still hadn't made visual confirmation with the jackasses threatening them although if Dean had to guess, they were probably extremist Romulans. Again. At any rate, the enemy was deadly serious. _Impala_ had been out with the _Hokkaido_ running tag-team tests on a certain section of empty, harmless space when the trap had been sprung. Despite Captain Hiroshi's prudence, experience and highly-reliable crew, the _Hokkaido_ was now so much space dust swirling around the _Impala_. Dean's ship had survived only thanks to Bobby's inventive engineering.

The _Hokkaido_'s sister ship hadn't even managed to save one single life.

That fact sat in Dean's gut and burned like a red hot coal.

He sighed and reluctantly came to the only decision he could feasibly make. "Tell our new friends that they can go to hell and activate the self-destruct. _Impala _doesn't negotiate with terrorists."

Then Captain Dean Winchester prepared to bluff for his life and the lives of everyone under his command.

* * *

_Earth, Starfleet Command, three weeks later…_

Captain Jim Kirk stared at the convened Admiralty with flabbergasted dismay. "What do you mean, you're not sending a ship to extract the _Impala_?" he demanded in tones dangerously close to insubordination.

Admiral Vance sighed and rubbed his forehead, lines of stress and exhaustion deepening in the face of Kirk's righteous outrage. The rest of the admirals, Pike included, had the grace to flinch at Kirk's stridently disbelieving voice. "If any Starfleet ship crosses into Romulan territory, the Romulan ruling council will take it as an act of aggression. They don't know where the terrorists took the _Impala_ but have promised to look into it. Additionally, we still don't know if the _Impala_ survived the encounter and as such, if there is even anyone to rescue." Vance's voice was weary and carefully paced so not to show tension.

"Bullshit. Sir." Kirk snapped, slamming a fist down on the table he had been pacing around with enough force to make a few of the more sedate Admirals jump. "That's a load of posturing crap and you know it."

"Watch your tone, captain," Cartwright shot back. "None of us are happy about this – I now have to figure out how we're going to get a vital vaccine to an area of space that only the _Impala_ could reach in time. But the fact of the matter is we cannot take action without angering the Romulans. They don't want a Constitution-class ship poking around the more private areas of the Romulan Empire. And we cannot send the Federation to war over one Miranda-class crew, even one so famous as the _Impala_. That's our final word on the matter. And Kirk," the old man leaned forward without his usual animosity, "if you should decide to take action yourself, successful or not, we will have to act accordingly to appease the Romulans. The entire Federation cannot be jeopardized for the sake of one small crew."

In short, if Kirk went AWOL and saved his friends he'd probably end up in jail for a very long time if he was lucky enough to miss getting handed over to the Romulans by Starfleet as a sacrificial lamb. And if he took anyone with him, they'd suffer the same fate.

Muscles jumped along Kirk's jaw line and the sound of grinding teeth could be heard even by the slightly deaf Admiral Sennchal. Kirk had to concede Cartwright's point. Especially since Cartwright may have been a douche in the past but for months now he had been treating the _Enterprise_ and _Impala_ with unparalleled, impressively impartial professionalism. Kirk could now see how in his younger days, this had been the admiral who had successfully run a gauntlet of Klingon ships in an unarmed shuttle to rescue a diplomat's daughter.

"Do you understand?" Pike asked finally, speaking for the first time. Kirk was had pressed not to shoot the admiral a look of betrayal. Pike had always been firmly in their court, always backing the _Enterprise_ or _Impala_ in whatever they did. Still, Kirk managed to nod neutrally and swept out of the conference room feeling very much like a ticking photon torpedo. On one hand (the rational, Spock-like hand), Kirk understood. Really, he did. Pike was caught in a hard place between the Federation Council and a crew he had picked personally – risk billions of lives, thousands of planets, all for less than three hundred people?

Still, Kirk couldn't imagine making the decision.

Good thing he wasn't an admiral.

Instead, he stormed down the halls of Starfleet Command, face set like a thundercloud as he tried to puzzle out how this happened and what he was going to do about it.

He came to one conclusion.

He had a ship to steal.


	2. Unemployment Options

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural or Firefly.

* * *

"_This is Captain Dean Winchester of the USS _Impala_. If you've found this, we've gone missing and we're probably dead. _Hokkaido_ has been lost. We don't know who our enemy is but they outnumbered us at least twenty to one before the _Hokkaido_ went under. I expect that the _Impala_ will be lost shortly. I'd just like Starfleet to know we'll go down fighting. You'll find the captain's log attached. Good luck and don't let anyone follow us, least of all that idiot Jim Kirk. I'm fairly certain that's what they want. You hear me, Jim? _Don't_ follow us."_

* * *

The terse, annoyingly message picked up sixteen hours after the _Impala _and _Hokkaido_ had missed their check in was haunting Jim Kirk. First of all, it was disturbingly short on details. Dean may not have been one for useless paperwork but he understood the necessity of information and the man was a terror when it came to digging up dirt. Second of all, what in the seven hells gave Dean Winchester the right to tell Jim Kirk that he couldn't rescue his dumbass friend and his idiotic toy ship?

If the unknown enemy wanted Jim Kirk, by God he'd give them Jim Kirk, cramming his explosive personality down their throats until they choked on it, scrabbling in their death throes as they rued the day they had crossed the _Enterprise_. Then he'd beat the shit out of their empty ships just because he could and find his friend. After that, he'd enthusiastically gloat and needle Dean about being rescued like a damsel in distress until the man was ready to kill Jim. Naturally, Jim would find every single _Impala_ crew member alive and unharmed.

This lovely little daydream was thoroughly beefing up Kirk's ideal mission endgame four hours after he'd been officially ordered to stand down from duty and barred from his ship. At the same time, Kirk found himself busily rewiring the _Enterprise_'s piloting console. Hopefully he'd be successful and achieve his goal of running the science station remotely without having to skip all the way across the bridge. He was probably about half way and had singed his knuckles on the tiny soldering iron when he heard the lift doors swoosh open. A quick tingle of panic ran down his spine. Kirk knew he had sent every single crew member out on shore leave and he had made damn sure that he locked out the shuttle bay and transporter. No one should have been able to get on the _Enterprise_.

"_Keptin_!" Chekov's unexpected, scandalized voice had Kirk smacking his head off the bottom of the piloting console with a mild curse. "You cannot abuse ze computer like dat! Stop it immediately!" With little to no regard for chain of command, the skinny Russian yanked his captain out from under the console and immediately set about repairing the damage wreaked on the delicate equipment.

Banished from his work, Kirk sat blinking on the floor of the bridge, feeling very much like a bewildered mole jerked into the light. "I thought I told you lot to go away on shore leave and not come back." The entire senior bridge crew glowered down at him and as a whole decided to ignore their petulant, self-sacrificing captain, flicking switches and beginning their practiced routine of bringing the _Enterprise_ to life. "You're not allowed to do this!" Kirk protested.

Uhura was the only crew member with enough spare time to look insulted, flouncing over to her communications with a huff. "And you also thought we'd leave the _Impala_ stranded who knows where?" she demanded in that universal tone of voice used by women around the universe when they wanted to imply that men of their acquaintance were acting like brain-dead Neanderthals.

Kirk fumbled for a minute, pulling himself to a standing position in time to watch Sulu zip by under his nose to inspect his abused pilot's station and Bones lean up against the back bridge rail with an exasperated scowl. "Hey, wait," Kirk protested, feeling very caught off guard. "You know that this is pretty much a one way trip and I just can't let you ruin your careers like that!"

Spock arched an eyebrow. "I did not know, Captain, that you were our career counsellor nor that you had any expertise in the area. Your interference is unnecessary."

"We're big boys and girls who know what we're doing. And good god man, I dread to think about what sort of a mess you'd be in if we let you run off on your own." Bones sounded patronizingly weary as he shrugged. Clearly the thought of Kirk turned loose on a kamikaze rescue mission was just too much work for the taciturn doctor to mention. Kirk glared at his CMO.

"You have a daughter."

The atmosphere on the bridge turned electric in an instant.

"And how does her daddy face his little girl with the knowledge that he was too coward to even attempt to save his friends?" McCoy's face was set, resolve in every line of his body. Kirk glanced around the bridge. No one was budging, the grim light of complete understanding in their eyes.

Only one way to end this.

Slumping into his command chair with a sigh, Kirk rubbed his forehead in reluctant defeat. "Who else is on this crazy one-way trip to hell?"

"Commander Scott, Commander Cup-cake," Kirk snorted in wry amusement at Spock's precise pronunciation of the nickname, "Nurse Chapel and Amanda."

"What?" Kirk blurted out at the last name.

"Tried to talk her out of it," McCoy growled, "but she says the _Impala_ helped her out when the bar burned down. That and Amanda's pretty sure she doesn't have much of a career if the _Enterprise _and the _Impala_ are out of commission so she figured she may as well tag along."

"And Chapel," Kirk sighed, thinking of the lives that were going to be destroyed by this mission. "Hell."

The crew let their captain stew over the problems he was currently facing until the bridge hummed to life, ready and raring to go.

"Well, Captain?" Spock asked.

Kirk gripped his chair and silently accepted responsibility for everything he and his crew were about to do.

"Sulu, get us out of here."

_Enterprise_ screamed out of space dock at top speed, upsetting more than a few captains as Sulu showed uncharacteristic disregard for ship safety in his break for freedom. Skipping to warp with no problems, _Enterprise_ was soon skipping merrily towards the Neutral Zone at warp 8.5. If Starfleet wanted to catch the flagship, they'd better find the _Impala_ or set a very elaborate, sneaky trap.

"So have you thought this through?" McCoy asked as the stars slipped by silently outside the view screen.

"Of course I have. Scotty, do you have that little present Rodney McKay left us?"

"_Aye capt'n and it's a wee bit friendlier to the grand lady now. Ye want the toy up and running us invisible?"_ Scotty's voice echoed around the bridge.

"That's exactly what I want, Mr. Scott. Make it happen." Kirk swivelled around in his chair just in time to see Bones' eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

"And what were you going to do if the two brainiacs didn't show up to run the cloak?"

Kirk sent his best friend a shit-eating grin and ignored the sticky question. Sure, he hadn't had a plan when he was lodged under the piloting console, but he would have figured something out eventually even if his crew hadn't showed up and that was all that mattered. "Drop her out of warp, Mr. Sulu."

As McCoy lurked almost sulkily at the back of the bridge, the _Enterprise_ paused in her journey just long enough for the finicky piece of retro-engineered Atlantis technology to render the ship chameleon-like, rippling as the cloak took effect.

"An unforeseen benefit of the cloak is the reduced ion trail," Spock reported from the science station as he carefully balanced fluctuating power levels. The cloak had been improved to the point where it no longer ate up dilithum crystals like Pez candy but it was still notoriously difficult to maintain. _Enterprise_ was hobbled to an almost cripplingly slow warp 3 when it was activated and quite frankly Starfleet had no interest in developing something that required a team of Scotty and Spock's calibre to maintain.

Kirk didn't mind. Atlantis' gift gave them an excellent wild card and he was pretty sure most of the admirals didn't know he had it at his disposal.

So off the invisible _Enterprise_ went, not exactly running at a speed Kirk would like but Starfleet would be chasing a ghost for weeks and that was what he wanted.

* * *

_Nova Montina, three days later_

"Hey Reynolds, some random sod callin' hisself Jim's looking for you," the gap-toothed old rum-runner called around the corner of the dingy, ratty shop. Mal glanced up from the bargain being driven with the rum-runner's equally gap-toothed offspring and squinted against the hot sunshine pouring in the door.

"I'll be damned," he laughed, elbowing Zoe jovially. "Look, it's Jimbo."

The scruffy blond man in a long black leather coat and a rather intimidating looking phaser grinned back at him. "Mal, Zoe."

"Figured you'd come looking for us after what went down, ya know," Mal speculated, snatching up credits from the table and leaving his scowling buyer behind. When the buyer tried to slip a hand under the table, Zoe's long-barrelled gun flipped out to train on his nose. Mal gestured towards the door. "Come on before we have to shoot this _gorram_ cheat for trying to slit our throats."

Once out in the open air. Jim fell into silent step beside the Browncoat captain as they jostled their way through the market, Zoe trailing a few watchful steps behind. "Don't look your usual shiny self. Gotten yourself in a real mess this time haven't you, Jim?" Mal asked, deliberately staying away from titles or last names.

"Yeah well," _Enterprise_'s captain squinted up at the orange sky, "can't leave a good crew stranded. You heard anything?"

Mal slipped his thumbs behind his suspenders and sauntered up to the loading ramp of the _Serenity, _Zoe disappearing into the bowels of the ship. "I heard lots of things, Jim. None of them good. Kept an ear close to the ground, figured you'd show up sooner or later. Come aboard."

Once the two captains were comfortably settled around the mess table and sipping on booze fit to eat through stomach lining, Mal flicked a finger at the hovering, curious Kaylee. "Talkin' serious here Kay, I don't want no ears about. Keep the riff-raff away from the ramp, eh?" With considerably less cheer than when she had first appeared, Kaylee obligingly disappeared around a corner.

Mal watched her go and waited until he was sure she was out of earshot. "Don't want her goin' over this again. She's been awful worried, took a real shine to Sam when we last met." The _Serenity_ captain took a long swig from his battered mug. "Look Jim, when I heard the _Impala_ went missin', we did some poking around on the Romulan side of our business, you know what I mean? _Serenity_ doesn't usually head that way. To make a living with the Romulans you gotta either have a real shiny cloak of sorts or _gorram_ good weapons."

Mal paused for emphasis, tapping a finger on the scratched table. "Every single whore's son we met over that border is running scared and from what they won't say. I don't think they rightly know what's hunting them. But there's a big shark over in Romulan territory and it's got the underground hiding tight or lighting out for safer waters. I can't even tell you who the shark is, let alone what they want or why and where they took the _Impala_. We found the battle site – _Hokkaido_'s been lost. Judging from the organic matter in the debris, all hands went with her."

Jim leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Shit. We guessed as much from the buoy that Dean had managed to hide in an asteroid and somehow launch back towards Starfleet territory via photon torpedo. Starfleet refused to investigate further."

Mal shrugged, his face twisting in disgust at the actions of an organization he largely disdained. "Can't say I'm surprised. Starfleet's long on talk, short on action. For the most part, anyway. You and Winchester ain't so bad." Jim tipped his mug in salute as Mal continued. "On the real slim good side of things, Starfleet's got those real dandy crystals running in their engines, yeah? A nice clean fat ion trail matching the _Impala_'s went with the bastards. Almost like they were trying to leave a trace." Mal offered up the small comfort as best he could.

"So three weeks ago, the _Impala _was in one piece."

"Best as I can tell. But we didn't look too close and skedaddled real quick as soon as we heard the rumours about something hunting down traders. Sorry Jimbo, but I won't risk _Serenity_ like that."

"No, no, I get that completely and you've done a hell of a lot more than I can ask." Jim slugged back the rest of the moonshine and coughed as a result. "Fuck Mal, what the hell is this?"

Mal smirked. "You don't wanna know, trust me."

Once Jim had gotten his rebelling oesophagus under control, he threw an explosive bit of good news into the conversation. "Scotty's got a transporter program written up for _Serenity_, by the way. We would have replicated it for you but figured a properly built, brand new transporter would rub this ship the wrong way."

Mal sat up straight. "You managed that?"

"Yep. Scotty's probably downloading it to you as we speak. Nice big cargo transporter for you. After that, I'll clear out and take my girl with me. Can't sit around for too long these days. And if anyone asks – "

"I don't know you, haven't seen you in ages if I did know you and I do believe I hear the other side of the universe calling _Serenity_. Here are the coordinates where we left off the search on the Romulan side of things. I'd stay away from the battle site if I were you. That was what really tipped us off. Someone was watching it when we were crossing back into friendly territory and if River hadn't kept her eyes peeled, they would have seen us." Mal was deadly serious despite his light tone of voice and Jim knew it was time to move on.

"I owe you Mal, big time."

"You don't yet but you sure as hell will if you don't find Winchester and his lost lambs alive."

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Mal didn't the whole story but he gave us a damn good start," Kirk reported as he strode onto the bridge, still in his 'smuggling outfit.' "Something or someone out there made him twitchy enough that he's going to risk running deep into Starfleet territory to get away. Chekov, here are the coordinates marking as far as _Serenity_ went. I want to be there five minutes ago. Make it happen, Sulu. Spock, I want a rundown on any and all major players within the Romulan underworld, including those we're not supposed to know about." The science officer nodded. "Make use of Chekov if you need to. We've gone this far, may as well bust up a few more Starfleet regulations if it makes this mission any easier."

Bones tried to look scandalized at this flippant suggestion but could only manage resigned as Uhura sighed before slipping out of her seat and jerking a thumb towards the science station. "Outta the chair, Chekov. I'll navigate so you can find the information we need."

"I didn't know you could navigate," Kirk said in surprise.

Uhura flipped her long ponytail out of the way and sent him one of her old, arch looks that made him feel like a fumbling ape. "There's a lot of things about me that you still don't know, Captain Kirk." Kirk smothered a grin as Uhura's fingers danced across the navigation console with grace and competence. In only slightly more time than Chekov would have used, she laid in the course for Sulu to follow.

"Estimated time of arrival, five days," Sulu said a minute later and Kirk scowled.

"We've already been out here for three days dodging patrols and skirting around major lines of traffic. This is taking too much time. _Impala_'s not being held for shits and giggles." He drummed restless fingers on his chair arm. "We're close enough to the Neutral Zone that I"ll take the risk. Drop the cloak and jump to warp 9 until we're an hour out from the coordinates. Then we'll pull the cloak back up. New estimated time of arrival?"

"Six hours," Sulu reported dutifully.

It was crystal clear from Kirk's irritated shift of weight that six hours was still too damn slow.

Kirk checked his chronometer. It had been three weeks, four days, seven hours, twenty three minutes since the _Impala_ was lost if the time stamp on the buoy was correct.

Not that he was counting or anything.

* * *

_Unknown location, unknown time_

A battered and bruised Dean glared up at his captor through his one good eye.

He'd never met the man before in his life. He had asked Sam through the grill in their prison door if the photographic memory had ever seen the douche and Sam said he had never run across a picture matching the description. They didn't have a name, didn't have a motive, didn't even really have a species. It was driving Sam nuts.

At the moment, Dean was using the memory of that whispered conversation to pointedly ignore a trembling, wide-eyed Hori from alpha shift and some cute, terrified little nurse from Ellen's staff.

"Do you have an answer, Dean?" The voice was cheerful, cloying and Dean already irrationally hated the sound of it.

"I won't. If you want someone, pick me." Dean's voice was low and raspy, hoarse with exhaustion. So far this man had been relatively reasonable, beating the captain and the captain alone. Dean could hope, could try to get some information or a rapport going. "I won't choose one of my people over the other. Kill me."

There was a delighted laugh. "Wrong answer." As a direct result, two shots rang out and Dean roared in rage and grief as he watched two of his people fall to the ground dead.

Warm metallic blood pooled across the chill floor, the smell choking the _Impala_'s captain with guilt and accusation.

"Now. I'll be back later. We can have some more fun then."


	3. Re: Masterminds, Evil and Otherwise

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

_Enterprise Bridge_

"What do you mean, the trail goes completely dead?"

Jim Kirk was not having a good day. Six hours ago, he had hoped that finding the _Impala _would be rather straightforward given that the abductors knew Starfleet wouldn't be chasing them. Hair-raising, difficult, semi-deadly even, but straightforward. Get in, grab the _Impala _and crew, get out. Piece of cake.

Evidently said abductors had planned for a rouge _Enterprise_ chasing them all over the universe and that just ticked Kirk off.

Nobody got to predict the _Enterprise_'s actions when Kirk wanted to be surprising, not even the Winchesters.

"I am continuing the search Captain but conventional methods have failed us." Spock wasn't too happy either. Being stonewalled like this by an unknown opponent who, judging by the ion trail readout registered by Mal Reynolds of the _Serenity_, had been piloting the Starfleet equivalent of garbage ships was down right humiliating and just a little humbling. Intellectually, Spock knew he was not the cleverest person in the universe but he had gotten used to a certain level of advanced comprehension that escaped most of his coworkers. Jim Kirk was not one of those coworkers, which was why the captain looked decidedly sceptical when Spock promised to chase down more radical solutions. Translation: Spock was making it up and failing in the process.

"Jim," Bones said quietly. He was the calmest person on the bridge at the moment as emotions hummed taut and dangerously close to explosive. "Look at it from another angle."

"What?"

"Jim, you're assuming that the person who captured the _Impala_ is our usual run-of-the-mill wanna-be evil mastermind."

Kirk's mental processes screeched to a screaming halt. "You're suggesting that this individual is actually for real an evil mastermind."

McCoy shrugged. "You said five minutes ago that this situation reeks of one egoistic individual. Put that together with the fact that they toasted the _Hokkaido_ and forced Dean Winchester into a corner and what do you come up with?"

"The evil version of me?"

McCoy propped his hands on his hips and glared at his friend as Uhura rolled her eyes in fond but flat-out exasperation. "Well Jim, if that's what makes you happy, sure. It's the evil version of you," the doctor drawled.

"Ha, you think I'm a genius." A humourless smile crooked the corner of the captain's mouth until Spock punctured the inflating ego with a sharp verbal poke.

"Technically sir, intelligence cannot be properly quantified and therefore the title of genius is not only redundant, it is inaccurate. You are not a genius."

Kirk gaped for a minute and then dramatically clapped a hand over his heart. "I'm wounded, Spock. Deeply wounded."

Sulu stifled an amused snort and the mood on the bridge lightened momentarily, a weight falling away from Kirk's shoulders as new ideas took hold. McCoy nodded subtly to Spock. The captain was back on track.

"Right. A bona-fide evil mastermind, eh? Well, if I wanted to hide my cloaked ion trail in a group of smaller ships, this is how I would do it…Spock, I need you on the science station. Scotty, prepare to cloak again. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last stop before Romulan space. Final chance to bail."

At the insulted glares shot his way, the captain grinned. "You know I had to ask so that when I stand court martial and they all ask me why I took a crew of mentally unbalanced individuals into hostile territory, I can honestly say I tried everything I could and you still stuck around like limpets. Sulu, take us to – "

"_Captain_?" a hesitant voice interrupted over the intercom.

Activity on the bridge paused. "Amanda?" Kirk replied, surprised to hear from their bartender.

"_Captain, we have a stowaway on board_."

* * *

_Enterprise Rec-Room_

Amanda stared at the smug figure slumped in the chair in front of her. "Captain Kirk is going to throw you in the brig. If he doesn't stuff you in a lifepod and pitch you out the nearest airlock."

"No, he won't."

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't like stowaways and you really shouldn't be here," Amanda ignored the individual's glance towards her nicer whiskey. Stowaways didn't get her good booze. Stowaways didn't get her bad booze until they were cleared by the captain and even then, they'd better make a damned good second impression. The person shrugged, clearly unimpressed with her projected conclusions.

"What, and you expected me to sit around on my ass while Starfleet moaned and griped about the big picture? If I remember correctly, you're exactly one hair's width away from being a stowaway yourself. You don't have a whole lot of room to talk."

Uncharacteristically, Amanda fidgeted. They were kinda-sorta right. She had no idea what she was doing here or how she could help, especially if things devolved into the usual, expected _Impala-Enterprise_ weirdness or an epic firefight. Thankfully, Amanda was spared a reply to the stowaway's penetrating stare when the rec room doors burst open, flooding the space with tense senior bridge personnel.

"Commander John Winchester, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing on my ship?" Captain James Kirk stormed, calling up every iota of command presence he had until the very air crackled with it. Amanda rather wisely ducked behind her bar and made like one of her glasses – harmless, transparent and deaf.

Snapping to sharp attention before a superior officer, the security commander squared his shoulders and stared into the middle distance, wisely awaiting a direct order.

"Answer me!"

"I am looking for my sons. Sir."

"You are, of course, aware that this is a career-suicide mission and that when I get your sons and their crew back, the crew of the _Enterprise_ won't be around to help them out of it. Now you're going to end up in jail right alongside us and just when they need someone to put them back together, they're going to be _alone,_" Kirk fumed.

John Winchester blinked, the parade drill version of a gaping stare. Before he could get back on his feet, the glowering captain deflated into the tired friend. "Shit, John. I was counting on you." Suddenly Jim Kirk seemed impossibly young and John was acutely aware that he was the oldest person in the room by at least two decades.

"I'm sorry Jim, but I was honestly trying to cover all my bases. I thought that if you went through with it, you could use me and if you didn't, I could skip out at the seediest star base we came across and carry on." Suddenly the senior bridge crew to a man (and woman) looked like a group of wilting vegetables and Amanda was the one glaring at a fumbling John.

"You thought they'd just get out here and then go 'Oops, we're in shit with Starfleet now, guess we'd better turn back?'" the bartender demanded, fisting a dishcloth in her hands. "Or better yet, 'Yikes, it's scary out here, the Romulans don't like us, we'd better run home?'" Her usually quiet voice began to rise as spots of anger flushed on her cheeks.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," the burly commander backpedalled from the small woman.

"What _did_ you mean, exactly?" she snapped.

John threw up his hands. "If the red tape got to be too much, if something happened to the _Enterprise,_ I don't know, I wasn't thinking straight! My family went missing into the blackness of space and Starfleet says that no one, not even the flagship is allowed to do anything, you tell me how you'd react!"

"The same way," Kirk's voice said lowly, stalling the impending bloodbath that was going to be a stressed John Winchester meeting an angry Amanda Mackenzie on a very bad day. "I'd have done the same thing." He visibly pulled himself together, captain coming to the forefront again. "But from now on Commander, you follow my orders. To the last damned letter or so help me I will have Dr. McCoy sedate you until this is over. I cannot have an emotionally compromised individual crashing this vitally important mission. _Is that understood?_"

By this point in his life, John Winchester was used to bucking authority. He had full run of the security program at the Academy, the admirals rarely bothered him and his sons respected him too much or never had the need to influence their technically superior rank over him. He opened his mouth to bargain and met the young captain's hard blue eyes.

Jim Kirk wasn't asking him to back down.

He was telling.

He had earned the captain's stripes on his sleeves and John Winchester would recognize and respect that right or this trip would be very miserable.

Commander John Winchester threw a textbook salute. "Understood sir. To the last damned letter, sir."

"Excellent. Report to the security commander four decks down. Bridge crew, with me. We will be entering Romulan space shortly. Amanda, find Scotty and stick to him like glue. I don't need you isolated should we be boarded."

Watching Kirk storm out, John figured he should have been more irritated with the hard line the captain had just laid out, a little annoyed that a man young enough to be his son had just handed him a dressing down the likes of which John hadn't seen since his own early days in Starfleet. He should be chafing under the collar of imposed command. Strangely enough, he wasn't.

You see, even as Kirk had jerked a Starfleet veteran into line, he had promised to see this mission to a successful conclusion whether it cost him his career, his ship or his life.

That was what it meant to be a Starfleet captain. It was both comforting and chilling because suddenly, John Winchester was acutely aware that Dean had made that same wholehearted, all-encompassing promise to every person assigned to the _Impala_.

* * *

_Enterprise Bridge_

"Mr. Chekov, find me the clearest, meatiest ion trail and follow it at maximum cloaked speed. Estimated time until the trail concludes?" Kirk demanded with newfound calm and determination, infecting everyone on the bridge with the same energy.

"Approximately four hours, keptin, prowiding dat the trail does not disintegrate along de vay. It is a wery old trail." The Russian was scowling in determination. "I vill not lose it, keptin." Meaning that Chekov felt the need to report that what he was doing was impossible and most navigators would have already given up but the part-bloodhound Chekov would take Kirk where he wanted to go, come hell or high water.

"Captain, I do not understand. What are we following, exactly?" Spock was genuinely quizzical. Up until this point in time, Captain Kirk had been obsessed with finding the _Impala_ directly. Nothing less than the missing ship and her crew was acceptable. This seemed to be a diversion from the original plan.

Kirk swivelled in his chair. "We are following the biggest ship's trail. Then we're going to find the ship at the end of it. We're going to beat the shit out of said ship. After that, we'll force their surrender and interrogate the captain. If he is not in possession of the information we need, he will know who does."

"Or?" McCoy asked, challenging.

Jim Kirk's eyes were very cold. "He will tell me what I want to know. Don't worry about the details, Bones."

Sulu pushed the _Enterprise_ to warp 3 again as Chekov carefully tweaked their navigational readouts, both deliberately focusing on their work as Uhura monitored emergency channels.

No one really wanted to know what was lurking at the bottom of the captain's murky emotions.

* * *

_Unknown location, unknown time_

Sam stared dully at the blank wall in front of him.

Four walls, all solid, twelve feet high and at least two feet thick, comprised of solid, implacable durasteel.

One big steel door. Hinges on the outside, air tight seal. No ventilation shafts larger than one foot in diameter, none of them grouped together. No electronic lock to bewilder. A simple, solid padlock, judging from the rattle whenever their captor opened the door, but it was a devastatingly effective padlock, especially given that the grille in the window was a scant three inch by three inch square. It was just big enough to talk to Dean, just big enough to tantalize with the promise of elusive freedom and definitely too far away to reach the padlock with any form of pick lock.

Someone really wanted to make sure the slippery Winchesters didn't escape.

And this someone was very, very clever because quite frankly, this was how Sam would have done it had he gone into prison design.

The cell was a rather big room and held everyone from the _Impala_ except Dean. Buckets of fresh water and bland food sat in the centre of the room and Ellen handed it out in rations. Empty buckets waited for other uses, embarrassingly out in the open. The women took turns being a human screen.

More worryingly, Hori and Beth from the infirmary had been taken away by their mysterious blond captor. They had not come back and that told Sam that they were probably dead. Two sharp, old-fashioned gunshots and roar of rage that could only have come from Dean across the hall confirmed Sam's suspicions.

He plucked uselessly at the gray coveralls he and everyone else wore. Their captor had gassed the entire crew using an unknown delivery system and then stripped them of everything. Sam had woken up in this cell with no idea of how much time had passed and absolutely none of his little escape-assisting inventions, including the tiny explosive caps that had covered the back of Sam's molars and the slim wire hidden in his ear.

One night when they were both drunk, Sam had listed all of these gadgets off in an attempt to impress. Dean said he was paranoid.

Sam pointed out that at least _he_ didn't sleep with a K-bar knife under his pillow and a highly restricted Desert Eagle hidden in his command chair. Usually.

Back to the point. So now two of the _Impala_'s crew members were dead. Dean was emotionally compromised. Fear was spreading throughout the cell, whispers winding their way from person to person. The rest of the bridge crew were doing their level best to contain the panic but as their first officer sat blankly, even Castiel started to show signs of nervousness.

Then the door to the cell banged open and their captor strode into the room, merrily swinging a short-handled sledgehammer. "Hello boys and girls! I'm here for Sammy!"

Sam's head snapped up and he locked gazes with the tormentor. "Such a sharp mind you have, Sam Winchester," the man drawled softly, cloyingly. He dropped to his haunches in front of Sam, casually unconcerned about the fact that he was turning his back on an entire room full of highly competent individuals. Jo alone probably knew several different ways to render this man very dead in a very short period of time with her bare hands.

"I'm not worried about them," the blond grinned, almost as if he were telepathic and reading Sam's mind. "You know why, Sammy? Because they're _sheep_. Right now they're so scared, so unsure of themselves that they won't make a move without you telling them too."

Sam shook his head slightly as Ash and Jo bristled. Judging from the lack of movement, Bobby probably calmed them down as Sam had hoped.

"I'm right, aren't I? If clever, clever Sam asks, they will comply, even if the request seems crazy. Or cowardly. Of course, if I asked them why they listened, they'd probably say it was faith. Faith in you. I wonder how long I can keep you here before that faith cracks. Warps. Turns to hate. What will you do then?"

"What do you want?" Sam asked in a monotone voice.

"Oh, I want many, many things. A fine Chianti, for one. The universe in chaos might be nice. Or Sam Winchester, taken apart and broken down until he's pliant as silk in my hands. I could turn you into such a work of art, a truly beautiful monster. But we'll start small." The captor smiled pleasantly. "I'll start with an easy question."

He reached out and with inhuman strength, dragged Castiel to the forefront of the crowd, running a careless blunt finger along Castiel's hand. "You know, I like sledgehammers. Such brutal force." The captor tapped said tool on the floor idly, not letting Castiel sidle away. "Either I kill your brother or you smash this pilot's hand into a boneless pulp. Choose to be a self-sacrificing hero like your brother did and I'll find someone else to kill in this crew of yours."

Sam closed his eyes and held his breath, focusing inward. Castiel would have to trust him. They all would. Hell, even Sam would have to trust himself. Stray just a hair and this whole charade would fall apart like the madman planned.

"I refuse to answer," he replied finally, voice disturbingly calm, eyes meeting their captor's.

He had made the right gamble. Curiosity sparked in the opponent. "Why?"

Sam leaned back against the wall and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. "Because I don't get anything out of it."

"Sure you do. Your brother lives, Cassie here keeps his hand or one of your people continues to live. I'm even giving you a choice!"

"But I lose something no matter what. I won't enter a game I can't win." Outwardly unconcerned, Sam was desperately gambling on this man's curiosity and superiority.

"Interesting Sammy, interesting. You want life to treat you fairly?"

Sam snorted. "Hell no. You know exactly what I'm doing right now."

"Huh. So you should know that I'm going to hurt someone you care about anyway but you want to see if I can be manipulated."

Sam shrugged. "I refuse to engage in a game that does not give me at least a chance of gaining what I want. Go on. Kill or maim everyone in this room if you like. I won't stop you."

The captor let the sledgehammer lean up against his thigh and rubbed his hands together gleefully.

"All right-y then. If that's how you want it, who's first? I like the pilot, personally. He's riiight here and they're such a fragile breed, pilots. Take away their ability to skip through the stars and they just," he waved vaguely, "crumble." The man's smile widened to a disturbingly child-like happiness as he contemplated his sledgehammer before swinging it up over his head, preparing to bring it down with crushing force.

He paused for a bare second, just long enough to introduce himself.

"Oh, and by the way, I'm Lucifer. Welcome to hell."


	4. Decisions, Decisions

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

* * *

_Enterprise_

_Enterprise_ found herself floating in a lonely, dead quiet quadrant of Romulan space. The section was studded with tiny planetoids and clouds of space dust, fogging up sensors and had Spock been any less skilled, he probably would have been pulling his hair out in frustration over the scrambled readings he was getting.

"Captain," he finally conceded, "I am afraid that there is no way for the ship to gain any sort of an accurate baseline reading. We are piloting blind."

Sulu and Chekov confirmed Spock's conclusion, not that Kirk was really expecting them to disagree.

"All right, let me think," Kirk requested, staring out into the vastness of space.

"Finding de _Impala_ vill be like finding a needle in a haystack," Chekov complained, a hint of despair cropping up in his voice. The bridge crew had been spreading themselves thin, thinking outside the box constantly while worrying about Starfleet catching up with them and it was starting to show. Tempers were running short, bags were appearing under tired eyes and Kirk knew that if they didn't find the _Impala_ soon, he'd have to force everyone to take a break, which would only lower morale further.

Needle in a haystack. Needle in a haystack. Needle.

Bingo. That was it.

"There's just one problem with hiding a needle in a haystack," Kirk said slowly with a growing grin. "Needles are metal. Metal is magnetic."

"So?" Bones demanded irritably.

"We're pretty damn sure the _Impala_ was here, right Chekov?"

The Russian nodded enthusiastically. "Da, but the trail goes cold after dat, keptin. I hev no idea vhere dey vent."

"Well, we want to find the _Impala. _Why do all that hard work when we can just call them?" Kirk asked with a grin. "Uhura? Could you put out a broadband broadcast hailing the _Impala_?"

"Jim – "

"Captain – "

McCoy and Spock tripped over each other, a rare occurrence resulting in Kirk's madcap smirk growing wider. "Jim, what the hell are you thinking? That's going to bring every ship in the quadrant down on our heads!" the good doctor blustered, fearing that his crazy captain had finally cracked.

"Exactly." Kirk leaned back in his chair. "You've forgotten, haven't you Bones? We're invisible!"

McCoy glared and paced about the bridge. 'That doesn't make us invincible, damn it!"

Kirk's smirk faded. "I know that, Bones. But either we sit here with our thumbs up our asses or we take a gamble and see this through. I don't see another option, though I won't lie to you. This could get hairy. I'm going to need every single one of you to pull it off." He made eye contact with his crew.

The more temperamental members sighed in exasperation at their captain and his stupid need to give them a way out as Spock shot his captain the look that said "Spill the plan _now_ before I am tempted to come up with an alternative destined to make you look like an idiot."

"Right, so everyone's down with insanity. Listen closely. I want to be found but only by the persons who took the _Impala_. So here's what we're going to do…"

* * *

_Unknown location, unknown time_

Sam was busy praying that Castiel would forgive him for allowing this sociopath to destroy the skills that defined a very large part of the talented pilot when the sledgehammer bounced off the steel floor with a clang. Unharmed, Castiel stumbled back towards his friends. Sam wouldn't be surprised to see Castiel's knees knocking together. Hell, Sam's would have been if he had been standing.

The _Impala_ first officer mercilessly squelched the urge to put himself between Lucifer and Castiel (which would turn Castiel into prey instead of an opponent to be feared), focusing instead on why Lucifer hadn't carried through with his threat.

"Marvellous," Lucifer sighed. "Everyone else in here was so dead sure I was going to ruin little Cassie here. Everyone but you – I just couldn't tell what you were thinking. Isn't it lovely? But I'm afraid that's the only false start you're going to get. Next time I'll go through with it." He stood back, gesturing towards Sam with the sledgehammer, treating the heavy tool as if it were made of straw. "Come on. You get to come with me, Sammy."

Bile rose in Sam's throat at the sound of Dean's favourite nickname being so perverted, turned into a cruel sing-song. Still, he stood compliantly enough and waved his crew back as they bristled. "Boy, do you know what you're doing?" Bobby demanded shortly.

Not at all, Sam thought. "Sure I do, Bobby. All you have to do is hold down the fort. I'll be back soon."

"Sammy's _ly_ing!" Lucifer crowed in delight. "He doesn't know a damned thing but he isn't going to tell you that, now is he? So be good little sheep and stay here nice and quiet."

Sam silently followed his captor out the door, staring straight down in hopes of catching a glimpse of Dean in his cell. He had no such luck as Lucifer turned around, walking backwards with ease as he smirked at his plaything. "Looking for Deano, Sammy?"

"Piss off," Sam snarled now that he was out of his crew's earshot.

"That's not very nice," Lucifer leered and pushed open a heavy steel door. "Especially since I was bringing you to your brother."

Steeling himself against the horrors waiting within, Sam stepped through the doorway. "If you've hurt Dean, I swear you won't be long for this world," he growled over his shoulder to Lucifer.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, death and destruction reaped bountifully on my head. Can we get past that?"

Sam paused and stared at Lucifer. "You tell me."

Lucifer shivered over-dramatically under the coldly threatening glare and threw up his hands in defeat. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

Focusing forward, Sam stepped into the room. Dean was leaning irritably against the far wall, eyes fixed on the doorway. "Sam!" he cried, trying to keep his voice level.

"Dean, you all right?"

Dean ignored the question as Sam had expected him to, but the _Impala_'s captain was standing and breathing easily, with no traces of physical pain in his face or stance. Emotionally Dean was a different story. "Hori and Beth are dead thanks to that bastard."

"No need to thank me, just doing my civic duty!" Lucifer trilled. It seemed that the sociopath was incapable of being serious.

"Civic duty?" Sam asked, hoping to prod some information out of the narcissistic man.

"Oh, certain extremist factions of the Romulan government think they've got me on a string and they want you _very_ dead. You and your little friends in the _Enterprise._ Now that's a beautiful ship. The _Impala'_s a pretty sweet ride but a little light on the mass destruction, you know? _Enterprise_ on the other hand, I can turn that into something useful. Rename it maybe. _Inferno_ has a nice ring." Lucifer hummed as he scribbled invisible names on his left palm with his right finger.

Stepping into the prying role, Sam frowned thoughtfully. "Didn't take you as the sort of man who would willingly follow orders."

Lucifer grinned widely. "What did I say, Sammy? I'm just playing along. I like destruction. The end of the universe would make a glorious birthday present, in case you're wondering. In the meantime I'll settle for pain, hysteria and, well evil. Which brings me back to business. Sam here is going to make a decision."

He raised the sledgehammer, pointing it at Dean. "Who lives and who dies, Sammy? Your big brother or the person in the cell beside him? There's no one listening in on this cell, I promise. Talk it out. You have two minutes." Lucifer took a step back and slammed the door shut, leaving the Winchesters staring at each other in dismay.

"Sam," Dean said calmly, striding across the room to stand in front of his brother.

"No."

"Yes."

"Hell no." Sam was staring at the door, brain racing furiously.

"Sam, you have to."

"Absolutely not. He's decided you're my most valuable chip. People are going to die no matter what but if I prove to him that I'm willing to sacrifice brains, courage and sheer stubbornness for an unknown factor simply because I think it's morally necessary to protect that unknown factor then I'm just like everyone else, the rest of his 'sheep' and he has no reason to keep us all alive. Better to keep you alive and hope I have a chance to put you into play."

"And if Ash or Bobby is in that cell?"

Sam flinched but held firm. "I have to play the game and beat him at it." He pounded on the door. "Lucifer!"

"Aw, you acknowledged me! I'm touched! Well, Saaaaam?"

Sam squeezed his fists tight enough to feel his short nails cut into his palms. "The person next door dies."

Lucifer grinned widely. "Well, well, well. Isn't that interesting. And not as hard as you thought, was it Sam?"

Dean surged forward and Sam whipped an arm out, holding his brother back as Lucifer brought up a wickedly long knife. "Easy Deano. Everyone gets their turn, don't worry. You'll get your crack at me. I just wonder if you'll be able to pay the price. I do wonder. Come on, Sammy."

Sam pressed his brother gently away from Lucifer and followed, wondering if it was possible to pick Lucifer's pocket and then slam that knife into the abhorrent man's neck. His fingers twitched hungrily.

"Hey, just so you know. If anyone tries anything stupid, I'll kill them or someone they care about in a heartbeat."

Sam paused in his walking as Lucifer grinned over his shoulder at his captive.

All that meant was that Sam would have to be damn sure his plans for escape worked perfectly.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Well Jim, you wanted everyone paying attention to us," Bones drawled. "Time to put the second half of your plan into motion."

The captain hummed thoughtfully, ignoring his grumbling CMO. Almost ready to make his move. Space around them was positively crawling with individuals who wanted the _Enterprise_ in pieces – Romulan, Klingon, free-lance mercenaries and the occasional badly disguised Starfleet IO ship.

But none of these wanna-be captors had the moxie, the subtlety or the genius to capture the _Impala._ So the _Enterprise_ sat by silently, cloaked in the shadow of a planetoid. Hours ticked by as a few close calls forced Sulu to move the ship about like a ghost. Being uncovered because some podunk mercenary ran into the _Enterprise_ would just be embarrassing.

"There," Kirk said suddenly. "That ship."

That ship was a dilapidated little trader, sneaking around planetoids with undue caution.

"Why that one, sir?" Amanda asked curiously. She had taken to waiting patiently in the back corner of the bridge, reading a battered old-fashioned paperback mystery and keeping an eye on everything for reasons fathomable only to her.

"That one is not looking for the _Enterprise_ with the intent of engaging," Spock replied. "The captain is under orders to report our whereabouts to a higher authority."

"Scout ship," Kirk added. "Sulu and Chekov, follow that ship at all costs. I do not want to lose it."

"Yes sir."

"Aye keptin."

_Enterprise_ snuck after the scout ship like a stealthy panther, every crew member gripping their console with white knuckles. "I love this cloak," Sulu muttered repeatedly under his breath. Their quarry wasn't even attempting to hide their trail because everyone knew that Starfleet didn't have cloaks and after fifty ships had been scouring the area for the _Enterprise,_ the chances of being followed were next to nil.

Unless of course, the follower was _Enterprise _with an Atlantean cloak.

The scout ship led the hunter right into the very heart of the Romulan Empire. By this point, Amanda had ditched her paperback and was staring wide-eyed out the view screen as Chekov struggled not to gape like their bartender and Sulu steadied his nerves by rechecking his most reliable sensors. Uhura let her nails chatter noisily over her console as the crew fully realized that they were far, far behind enemy lines and the only thing keeping them in one piece was a rather quirky piece of alien technology.

"_Capt'n,"_ Scotty reported suddenly as Sulu carefully manoeuvred the _Enterprise_ around and over enemy ships, _"we've a wee bit of a problem."_

"What is it, Mr. Scott?"

"_Well sair, as ye know the cloak's a temperamental beastie at best of times and we've been running her constantly now for the past eleven hours. She's going to overheat and conk out on us anytime in the next thirty to forty minutes and Ah'm going to need at least ten minutes to reset her."_

A ripple of panic trickled around the bridge as the _Enterprise_ dipped below a very large and very intimidating Romulan war bird. "Spock?" Kirk asked.

"Mr. Scott's estimation is correct. It is highly probable that the cloak will cease to operate in approximately thirty four minutes."

"And we're nowhere near the _Impala_. There are too many squabbling factions in this area to hold a Starfleet Miranda-class ship secret for three whole weeks," Kirk muttered, rubbing his forehead. They had made it this far but by Kirk's estimations, the _Enterprise _was only about halfway to her destination. "Mr. Chekov, could you pick up the scout's trail if we jumped to warp long enough for Scotty to reset the cloak?"

"Unfortunately keptin, this is a high traffic area. It is highly unlikely." Chekov scowled at his instrument panel as if admitting he was unable to complete an impossible task was shameful.

"Great. Anyone have any ideas?" Kirk asked, not really expecting an answer as he tried to come up with a viable plan on the fly. He shouldn't have relied on the cloak to hold o ut forever and that was a rookie mistake he wouldn't be making again.

Spock punched in another long string of equations before swivelling to face his captain. "I may have a solution."

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."

"If the _Enterprise _was successfully concealed behind a large, obscuring object, it may be possible to rewrite the cloak to mask our presence as a trader ship instead of Starfleet class. By utilizing our existing structure and blurring the perception of the sensors around us, the _Enterprise_ could successfully cut cloak power consumption in half, thus relieving the strain." Spock paused. "However, should we experience even the slightest fluctuation in the power couplings, the entire cloaking mechanism will short out. It would cost Mr. Scott and I significant time to repair it."

Kirk frowned. He didn't like the idea of toasting the technology that had brought them safely this far but he was also acutely aware that the figurative hourglass was running out of sand and there would be no turning it over without some risk. "Are you confident in your ability to achieve this, Mr. Spock?"

Spock jotted down a few more calculations. "With Ensign Chekov's assistance, I believe I can write a computer program capable of achieving this goal within twenty seven minutes."

Kirk drummed restless fingers on his chair. He didn't particularly like the idea of gambling with both the cloak and the ship but he trusted his people. If Spock said he could do it, he could do it. "Make it happen, Spock. Chekov, hop to it."

Twenty seven minutes ticked by ridiculously fast, Kirk struggling to keep his nosy self out of Spock and Chekov's way, distracting himself by pestering Sulu for updates on the ship they were still following.

"Captain, I think you should take a look at this," Sulu reported at T-3:14 minutes, after safely hiding the _Enterprise_ in a very interesting asteroid field. Sulu's discovery was a small Romulan space station, tucked behind a very large conglomerate space dock. "For a little science station," Sulu pointed out, "the security is disturbingly high and very encrypted. I thought you could take a crack at it since Chekov and Commander Spock are both occupied."

Kirk plunked into Chekov's seat without a second thought, limbering up his fingers and jumping into the fray with relish. "You weren't kidding," he muttered to Sulu. "Damn high encryption for a…what did the name say it did?"

"Monitored magnetic pulse frequencies," Uhura volunteered as she did her own version of investigation, namely tracking, sorting and sifting all comm traffic in the area.

"We are operational, captain," Spock interrupted Kirk's little side job with disturbing ease. "Perhaps you should allow Mr. Chekov to return to his station as I implement the new program?"

Reluctantly, Kirk returned to his chair, watching with no small pride and very small envy as Chekov's fingers flew across his console, slipping past encryption and firewalls with far more speed and skill than Kirk possessed.

But that was why he was the captain – jack of all trades, master of none, just enough understanding of each to blend them all into a cohesive unit. He nodded to his first officer as Spock sent the program speeding down to engineering.

The cloak fluttered, wavered and rippled around them.

Then it sputtered, Spock's console shot sparks and died as Scotty squawked miserably over the comm. When the program finally subsided and Spock looked very grave indeed, Kirk knew with dread certainty that his _Enterprise _was visible to every single enemy ship in the immediate vicinity.

To quote a lost friend – son of a bitch.

* * *

_Unknown location, unknown time_

The person Sam had killed was a young girl, a pretty Antos who had probably never hurt anyone in her short life.

"She drowned in her own blood. Took her the better part of half an hour to kick the bucket," Lucifer recounted with glee as Sam trembled, staring at the cost of his 'game,' the mad ride he could not stop, the end he could not prevent. Helpless, hopeless, weaponless. In Sam's arrogant wish to successfully match wits with this crazy cruel beast, a teenager had paid the price and painfully, judging from the grimace etched into her face. The blood that gave Lucifer so much disturbing happiness was splattered all over the walls, filling the cell with pungent perfume, tinged with urine and sweat. It had been a violent death, a cruel one.

"So." Lucifer broke into Sam's reverie. "Because you played so very, very well and answered so very, very right I'll answer a question for you." Sam muttered a reply and Lucifer leaned in. "What was that, Sammy? I didn't catch that." He sidled closer as Sam stared at the mess of a room, a cell identical to the one Dean was in, right down to the deadly ventilation shaft in the corner.

Dean could die like this.

The crew could die like this.

"Still can't hear you, Sam."

"Why?"

Lucifer recoiled, looking slightly crestfallen. "That's all you want to know, why? Lame question Sam, lame question."

Sam's head snapped up and his burning eyes locked onto Lucifer's startled face. "You said I could ask a question," he gritted out. "Answer me, damn it!" Sam's voice cracked with grief and guilt as Lucifer shrugged, for once coldly serious as he dropped the buffoon act.

"A better question, Sam Winchester, is why not?"


	5. Hide and Seek

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

"Well, this is new," Kirk commented airily.

"Indeed, captain." Spock's voice was drier than usual as they contemplated the view screen in front of them.

"I didn't know we were _that_ badass," Kirk continued.

"Evidently our abrupt appearance has disturbed our adversaries. Additionally, they have not considered mechanical malfunction as a factor."

"In short, they think we appeared on purpose."

"Correct, captain."

To be perfectly honest, had the _Narada_ suddenly appeared in orbit over Earth, Kirk probably would have reacted pretty much like the Romulans currently surrounding the _Enterprise_ – with extreme caution. Everyone knew that the casualty list would be astronomically high if a desperate _Enterprise_ went into battle. On top of that, no enemy had ever successfully predicted Jim Kirk's final end game and it was very likely that this was one of his more brilliant schemes.

Of course, the stalemate couldn't hold. One of the bigger Romulan war ships was no doubt on its way to trounce the _Enterprise_ from Romulus to Earth and back. That would be bad. Kirk decided to take action before that happened.

"Let's not disillusion them. Uhura, open a broadband channel." The communications officer nodded to her captain a few seconds later. He was clear to begin broadcasting. "This is Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the starship _Enterprise_ hailing the Romulan Ruling Council," he began, leaving out the Starfleet credentials with a pang of regret. "We have no intention of opening fire on your vessels. I am only interested in the location of the USS _Impala_. While I'm at it, I might be able to do something about your pest infestation, the one currently costing you in trade, bribes and ships?"

He paused in front of the piloting console, standing confidently with his feet braced wide. The ball was officially in their court.

Which could either give Scotty enough time to fix their cloak or they'd all be dead within fifteen seconds.

Kirk hated waiting.

* * *

_Unknown location_

"_The better question, Sam Winchester, is why not?"_

Lucifer's answer-with-a-question was haunting the _Impala_'s first officer. Why not throw the world into chaos? There were a thousand answers to the question but none that would resonate with someone who had clearly lost all empathy, all capacity for love. Lucifer had a cruel child's interest in life, the type that would sit for hours and singe ants with a magnifying glass just to watch them scramble.

And if Sam Winchester was going to get his crew and captain out of this madness alive and in one piece, he had to come up with a reason that would satisfy Lucifer.

He flinched as blood and brain matter splattered against the view screen currently allowing him to watch Lucifer interact with his presumed bosses and their victims. "What do you mean, the _Enterprise_ is sitting on top of our research lab in the heart of Romulan-controlled space and you can't access it?" the Romulan leader roared.

Sam froze.

When Lucifer glanced over at the camera, Sam squelched the wellspring of hope far, far down and settled in to think furiously. For this, he'd have to go down the rabbit-hole, go deep and pray Dean would be around to pull him out.

"Hey Sammy," Lucifer drawled, causing his employers to glance around the room in confusion, "what should I do with them?"

Sam's eyes glittered with a calculating, alien intelligence as he pressed the comm switch. "Are they of any further material use?"

"Not really."

"Whatever the hell you like."

Lucifer shuddered obscenely. "So cold, Sam. I like it. I like it a lot." He cracked his knuckles as his Romulan employers stared in amused bewilderment. Most Romulans had next to no fear of an unarmed human. Humans were so pitifully weak, the children of the universe compared to sage Vulcans, volatile Romulans and fierce Klingons.

So the Romulans sat complacent until Lucifer extracted one of his employers from the mortal plane in less time than it took to blink. Romulan intestines joined the slippery mess on the floor, mingling green and red blood into a deranged finger painting.

And Sam felt nothing, calculating events, reactions and emotions with all the accuracy and cunning of Lucifer himself.

For example: it was obvious now that Lucifer was not human, definitely not Romulan, not Klingon. It stood to reason that Lucifer's formative years had been cruel and thus played a role in the events currently taking place.

This knowledge could be useful, if volatile. Seeking confirmation or using it in a ploy might result in casualties or worse, a spoiled victory.

* * *

Bobby was staring grimly at the screen playing in the wall as confused crew mates chattered around him. They could hear Sam begin to engage with Lucifer. They heard Lucifer ask for Sam's advice. And they saw the deaths as a result.

"What is Commander Winchester doing?" an alpha shift scientist wondered, her voice small and lost in the silent cell.

Honestly, Bobby didn't know what the kid was thinking either. Sam Winchester was an enigma to him in many ways – confusing, caught up in the minutiae of the scientific universe and as opaque as his brother was transparent. Of course, that hadn't been a problem up until now. Bobby had been sure that Sam Winchester would never have willingly hurt a fly unless it was threatening someone else.

"He's got it all under control," Bobby said nonetheless. Doubting Sam would accomplish nothing at this point. It could be that Lucifer was trying to divide them through showing the recording. Hell, the recording could have been doctored, manufactured. Sam might not have even been present.

Ash was busy reminding everyone of this fact as Bobby continued watch the screen. Castiel was poking at the corner of the screen, hoping to cobble together something interesting, but short of breaking the actual screen itself and possibly destroying something valuable, it didn't look like the pilot would get anywhere.

Ellen was sitting beside Bobby, having finished tending to the wounded. She looked tired. Twelve _Impala_ crew members had died of their injuries after arriving in the cell and another twenty three were still missing, presumably dead on the _Impala_ wherever she was. Her daughter was sleeping fitfully, slumped up against Ellen's back. Everyone slept in shifts and Bobby had threatened to sedate those who resisted getting rest. "When the captain comes, we have to be ready for anything and everything. Don't be stupid," was the brusque engineer's reasoning.

The rest of the crew was busy trying to keep themselves occupied. Boredom became fear, fear became panic and the best way to ensure boredom didn't take hold was to amuse each other. Mental chess was played by the seriously brainy members as sleeves were ripped into strips and vaguely shaped circles for checkers. Hangman was a favourite but contention over who won what invariably cropped up. Bobby, Castiel and Ash were the mediators as they tried to figure out how to get all the _Impala_ crew out of the cell.

It wasn't going very well, judging from the way Ash sighed as he settled in beside Bobby. "Nothin'?" the engineer asked.

"Zilch," Ash replied morosely. "We need something to work with and that freak hasn't left us a damn thing."

Bobby grunted in response. They weren't getting out of here on their own, especially now it was disturbingly obvious that Lucifer wasn't human. A forced mass escape might result in the death of their captain. They had seen automated execution systems before.

All they could do was wait on the _Enterprise_ and one oddly-behaving Sam Winchester.

* * *

Dean frowned at his own view screen. "Careful, Sammy," he muttered under his breath. Sam was playing a dangerous game, flirting with the fine distinction of schmoozing the enemy with intent to betray and getting sucked into Lucifer's mad game. Dean knew Sam often felt like he didn't quite fit into a world that for all its advancements, still treated unique individuals like they had a mild stigma. He also knew that Sam's kind heart was tempered by a keen mind that could recognize when it was time to shut off the heart. It was a complicated thing – Sam's heart would dictate that his mind take over and his mind would keep his heart under control until the mind had achieved the goal.

And Dean would be left to pick up the pieces.

"Careful, Sammy," he repeated in a whisper.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"_Captain Kirk, you will surrender your ship immediately or be destroyed."_

Well, there went the stalemate. Kirk glanced sideways at his first officer. Spock nodded slightly. The plan was in place.

"Well see, that's just not possible," Kirk replied, meeting the stare of the arrogant Romulan commander sitting high in his big war cruiser. "Back off and we'll leave peacefully. Press your luck and we'll take great pleasure in making your lives very, very difficult." He glanced at Uhura, who cut the communications.

"Red alert folks, we're about to play a very tricky gambit," Kirk ordered briskly, dropping into his chair. "Cupcake and Winchester ready?"

"_Aye, captain. Standing by for your orders,"_ Cupcake reported over the comm.

"Excellent. Take us into battle," Kirk ordered and the _Enterprise_ roared, engines propelling her forward, phasers lashing out. In the confusion, in the spewing clouds of shattered metal and gas, the _Enterprise_'s shields flickered and a shuttle dropped away, disappearing almost immediately in the confusion.

"Shuttle deployed," Spock reported as the bridge shuddered under retaliatory fire.

Kirk allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. "Sulu, drop us out of sight."

Accordingly, the _Enterprise_ blasted a smaller, overly brave Romulan warbird into space junk and slipped behind it. Space wobbled and wavered. When the dust of battle cleared, there was nothing. The _Enterprise_ was gone.

Of course, every patch of space big enough to hold the _Enterprise_ was strafed with fire, just in case. The Romulan commander was irritated by this development but not disconcerted. He had fought enough blood feuds, handled enough spats with his own people that he knew how to fight a cloaked ship. His science officer was carefully looking for anomalous readings as the cruiser methodically combed space.

He also checked the call sign of every single ship in the area. They all checked out, right down to the recently arrived free trader who had been severely damaged in battle to the point where they were restricted to text messages.

After an hour or so of coming up empty, the commander was beginning to feel confused. The civilian ships nervously spread out in a grid pattern but none of them clanged up against the _Enterprise_. The Starfleet ship was a damned big thing to hide in a cloak and this was busy space. The commander scowled. This report of failure was not going to go over well with his superiors. Luckily, this was his first failure and he had an excellent track record up until this point.

He should escape disciplinary action with his life.

It bothered him more that the slippery, pathetically human Kirk had eluded him.

* * *

"Are we free to navigate?" Kirk asked Uhura. The communications officer checked a few more messages and nodded.

"That was a dangerous gamble Jim," Bones said with his customary reserved admiration. Kirk grinned at his friend, satisfied as a cat with cream. The Romulan mining trader _Pluto_ was busy trying to repair her shattered innards, worn over the _Enterprise_'s shiny Starfleet skin as the Atlantean cloak hummed at half power, once more operational.

"Is it stable?" Kirk demanded.

Spock checked his readouts once more. "It is. At current strength, the cloak should hold for the next 123.45 hours."

"So five days," Kirk paraphrased.

"Precisely."

"And under full cloak?"

"47.64 hours."

Kirk scowled but had to admit that the cloak had been holding up admirably until it had malfunctioned, especially given when they had first employed the cloak back in Atlantis, it had only held for three and a half hours.

As Kirk planned, the _Pluto _hobbled out of Romulan space, making for her home port. "Uhura, how long will that hack job of yours hold up?" Kirk asked.

Uhura shrugged expressively. "It depends on how paranoid the Romulans are feeling. But if I were to express an opinion captain, I would have the _Pluto_ disappear as quickly as possible." Kirk agreed and the _Pluto_ suddenly experienced a tragic engine overload, blipping out existence but leaving behind the energy signature of an explosion.

And the _Enterprise_ snuck back into enemy territory under full cloak, going to pick up their explorers.

* * *

_Cupcake and Winchester _

"Well this is interesting," Cupcake muttered. The shuttle-that-could was nondescript enough to escape suspicion and the _Enterprise_ officer had taken lessons on how to hide shuttles from Castiel and Sulu. Therefore, he and John Winchester managed to slip into the secure research lab with relative ease in disguise as Romulan scientists ran about in panic, the lab's shields shuddering as the two titans outside threw phaser and disruptor fire about like it was the end of days.

"Damn that Kirk," Winchester muttered as the lab pitched and he narrowly missed cracking his head off a stanchion. He was there as back-up and quite frankly Cupcake was glad of it. The Starfleet veteran fit in better than Spock, was more prudent than the captain and physically bigger than the rest of the crew. That and Winchester was security personnel down to the bone. The last time Cupcake had taken a well-intentioned Chekov on an away mission, the Russian had paid attention until a mathematical algorithm popped up. After that, Cupcake had had almost lost the kid when Chekov had forgotten to duck.

But that was neither here nor there. Plugging Sam Winchester's door-cracking doohickey into the security panel was the work of a second and waiting for the doors to swish open was the work of three more.

"What is this place?" Winchester wondered as they moved inside and then dead-locked the door behind them. Cupcake turned around to survey the immaculately clean laboratory. He picked up the Romulan equivalent of a PADD and frowned. He could admit it – this was when he usually wished for one of the geeks, preferably Mr. Spock.

"It looks like the development lab for a new listening device," Cupcake mused aloud.

"A listening device?" Winchester sounded sceptical and Cupcake frowned, flipping through the PADD.

"Or it could be an explosive that doesn't register on Starfleet scanners. I'm not really sure which. We should take the PADD and all information back with us to the _Enterprise_," Cupcake concluded. He could definitely download everything on the server to the PADD and let Chekov at the encrypted stuff.

The door beeped warningly and Winchester stepped back to cover it. "We should move before we get pinned down." Cupcake couldn't disagree and promptly jammed the loaded PADD into his shoulder bag.

The door beeped again and Winchester popped it open to an irritated Romulan scientist tapping his foot. "Sorry," Cupcake growled in Romulan, thanking his stars that Uhura had pestered everyone on the senior bridge crew to be fluent in the basics with a passable accent. "Had a malfunction with the door panel." At least he hoped he said 'door panel' and 'ass face.' He always got those words mixed up and drove Uhura to distraction.

Clearly Cupcake got the words right because the Romulan huffed and brushed past the two Starfleet officials. He refused to admit it but Cupcake was starting to sweat on their way back. The goal was so close but now the halls were crawling with Romulan soldiers and their disguises would only hold up to the most cursory of inspections. Shooting their way out of this trap would blow the _Enterprise_'s cover once more. He matched strides with Winchester and when a shout of alarm split the air, they wheeled around a corner and broke into a controlled jog.

They had almost made it to the shuttle when a disruptor beam buzzed angrily over Winchester's shoulder and smacked off the wall. "Move!" Winchester bellowed and Cupcake didn't argue, breaking into a flat out run and bending over to appear a smaller target. When a hot flash of pain had Cupcake's leg buckling, Winchester grabbed his arm and yanked the younger man bodily into the shuttle, throwing up the shields. With a few well-placed phaser shots, they blasted out of the research station and straight through the _Enterprise_'s cloak.

"_Welcome back_," the captain greeted over the comm. _"Get your asses into the bay. We have to be out of here before someone gets a bead on us."_

With a shared exasperated eye-roll of long suffering security officers universe-round, the two men sent the shuttle to a tooth-rattling landing as the ship jumped to warp. The force field snapped up just in time as the stars twisted by at steel-shredding speeds. "Captains," Winchester growled as Cupcake prodded at his bloody knee.

"I know," he muttered in response. "So demanding." Winchester slapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on," the veteran encouraged. "I'll drag your ass up to Bones so we can try to keep the captain and his bucket of bolts in one piece."

"Hard life we lead, but someone has to do it," Cupcake hissed in pain as the burn smacked off the shuttle wall. "Careful!"

Winchester smirked. "Come on youngster. Toughen up." He hauled Cupcake into the elevator.

Cupcake snorted and shoved at the supporting shoulder until he was standing on his good leg. "Youngster my ass, old man."

"Both of you shut up and let me see what sort of shit you got into," Bones growled as the elevator doors whooshed open.

"Not yet," Cupcake interrupted. "I have something for the captain. Bridge." The voice-activated elevator jolted into motion and Bones irritably snatched up the PADD, pointing at the spot where Cupcake was to stand. The doors slid open as Kirk turned to his away team with raised eyebrows. When Cupcake tried to budge, McCoy turned a fierce stare on Winchester, who obligingly laid a restraining hand on Cupcake's shoulder. McCoy nodded with satisfaction. "Stay there. Jim, this is for you."

The doors closed on his security team as Kirk poked at the information contained. After a few mostly fruitless minutes, Kirk conceded. "Mr. Chekov, I need you to take a crack at this. Cupcake picked up a hell of a lot of information."

The eager Russian plugged the PADD into various computer components and hacked into the Romulan code. Furiously tearing through information and sending off packets to Spock for scientific dissection, Chekov's eyes took on a mad glitter as he closed in on the desired information.

Finally he spun around in his chair so hard Sulu could hear the post of the chair crack in protest. Excitement and fresh hope buzzed in every accented word of Chekov's blessedly short report.

"Keptin! I hev found them! De _Impala!_"


	6. Initiation

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

* * *

"So Sam, what shall we do next?"

Lucifer's voice was slippery smooth with delight and happiness. He had brought Sam Winchester to heel with a minimum amount of effort. Oh, he knew that Sam's current submission was little more than lip service, that if Lucifer so much as blinked the wrong way, he'd lose the entire game to a very cold, very angry Winchester.

But even that idea was fun. He had finally found a playmate who was deadly serious and so very un-boring.

Lucifer had spent most of his life bored and hunted. It was a bad combination that had warped a brilliant mind until it was a dark and twisted representation of the potential Lucifer had once possessed.

His mother had been a human, an ore trader whose captain had strayed too close to the Romulan border. Despite her hard life, she had been a woman of rare beauty. The Romulan captain who captured the ore trader had recognized her attractive face and her strong frame. He took her as his plaything and enjoyed the fiery woman's resistance so much that he kept her around for the times when his Romulan wife refused to sate his darker, crueller fetishes.

To the Romulan's aghast surprise, his human toy bore him a son. When he threatened to take the infant away from his mother, Lucifer's mother managed to escape. The half-Romulan child grew up in the hard, cruel society of Romulus' underbelly, a few measly city blocks separating him from his Romulan father.

And his mother took the chance to instil in her child a festering hate of all things Romulan.

Up until his eleventh birthday, it looked as if the boy was going to become the greatest scourge the Romulans had ever seen, a malleable weapon growing in their midst who worshipped his mother with an unhealthy ardour.

Unfortunately he came home from a long school day in which he was taunted and tormented only to find his beloved mother, his epitome of purity and righteousness, in bed with a Romulan sub-commander. When he realized she rented her body out to the very enemy he had been taught to hate, he lost control of himself.

When Lucifer came to, blood was spattered all over the dingy, dirty room. Red and green dripped from the walls, collecting together on the floor in a muddled brown mess.

Staring at the corpses twisted around each other, he let the kitchen knife drop to the ground as an uncontrollable giggle bubbled up in his throat. Truth slapped him in the face. He had been freed of inhibition as he realized he needed nothing except what amused him.

With a Romulan's strength, the brains of a brilliant scientist and a festering hatred of life, the young boy travelled the galaxies. At first he was careless, leaving a trail of corpses behind him but that soon lost its charm. His schemes grew ever more sophisticated, changing from an unfettered animal to a predator of the highest degree as he learned the ways of the world.

By the time he was twenty eight, the entity known as Lucifer was growing bored. He played with governments, business moguls and the illegal sides of just about every major intergalactic power known to Earth. Yet he had not found an individual who could oppose him, engage with Lucifer enough to bring the sociopath to the heady brink of success won from a powerful opponent.

Until, purely by accident on orders from a Romulan looking to shake up the Federation, Lucifer had stumbled across Sam Winchester.

A good man. A very good man, well liked by his crew, charismatic, loyal to a fault – and so very humanly intelligent. Lucifer had thought about taking Spock, had thought it might be a match made in heaven – half-Romulan and half-Vulcan working together. But Vulcans never agonized over decisions and Lucifer wanted to wind his opponent up in emotional tendrils. He was looking for someone who would finally rip through those bonds, cast them off, vindicate what Lucifer himself had done in a heartbeat all those years ago.

Sam Winchester would be such a man, Lucifer decided.

Eventually, Sam Winchester would kill his brother and it would be glorious.

* * *

The big Starfleet officer scowled at the screen, mentally caught up in playing out several different scenarios.

"Oh come on Sammy, the decision's not _that_ complicated. Want me to make it easier for you?" Lucifer drawled, watching Sam's face closely. "I can go get the pilot or the navigator or maybe the engineer."

Sam twitched.

"The engineer it is," Lucifer decided. "I'll be back in a tick." He bounced out of the room in a flash, coming back with a trussed up Bobby Singer. "Now then Sam. You have until the count of ten to decide who dies – your friends or your friend. You pick."

Sam never glanced up as he whispered unintelligibly under his breath and Bobby stiffened. His battered girl was on the view screen. The _Impala_ hung silent in space, one nacelle punctured right through, the saucer gaping open. She had been that way for weeks and not even the faintest hint of atmosphere remained. Repairing the ship and re-pressurizing her would take several months and a pang struck the engineer's heart. Ships that looked like the _Impala_ did now were rarely repaired. Starfleet scrapped them and handed a shiny new version over to the captain.

"Damn it," Bobby swore softly. Those persistent, loyal, _stupid_ idiots were the reason why the bastard had hauled him out of the cell. _Enterprise_ was poking around the _Impala_, probably driven out of their minds with worry. Now Lucifer was going to make Sam choose – Bobby or every living soul on the _Enterprise_.

"You get it, don't you, Bobby." Lucifer grinned. "It's either worn-out, washed-up you or the great big shiny ship out there, full of young geniuses blazing with righteous ambition and idealism."

"Attack the _Enterprise_," Sam broke into the stare-down Lucifer had been thoroughly enjoying with Bobby.

"What?" Lucifer and Bobby chorused in unison.

"Jinx," Lucifer said childishly and then eyed his toy with interest. "You think the _Enterprise_ will survive a fight against my fleet?" he asked arrogantly.

Sam raised his eyebrows at his adversary. "What do you think?"

Lucifer didn't reply, studying Sam closely before giving himself a quick shake. "Well, back to the cell with you, Bobby. Aren't you glad Sam's feeling so protective?"

Bobby was also staring at Sam, wondering what the hell the kid was thinking.

* * *

_Enterprise_

_Enterprise_ had ditched the cloak when they had arrived on scene – spooking a potentially wounded _Impala_ with the sight of a nondescript trader would have resulted in phasers being fired. On top of that, if Dean and his crew were hiding nearby off the ship, say on the planet below or inside a nearby asteroid, the sight of the _Enterprise_ would pull them into the open sooner and quite frankly, sooner was good because Kirk was getting twitchy this deep in Romulan space, cloak or no cloak.

What the _Enterprise_ found rattled her stalwart crew to the core. Kirk had to swallow back a gulp of apprehension as Amanda gasped in horror. The _Impala_ was abandoned in space, ripped open to the cruel vacuum. One nacelle hung loose and the fastest ship in Starfleet couldn't navigate ten feet in her current condition.

"Damn," McCoy said lowly.

"Report, Mr. Spock." Kirk almost didn't recognize his own strangled voice.

Spock was silent for far too long as the scans seemed to take ten times longer than usual. Finally, the Vulcan's dark eyes met his captain's. "I regret to report that the _Impala_ has been exposed to vacuum for too long. Captain, all I can tell you is that crew members did die aboard the ship and the number was significant."

Tension gripped Kirk's shoulders and squeezed like a vice.

"Vhat do ve do now?" Chekov wondered, sounding lost. His console blipped in warning. "Keptin, ve have six incoming hostiles."

"ETA, Mr. Chekov?"

"Six minutes, ser."

Kirk frowned. "Spock, status of the _Impala_'s life pods?"

"Intact." There was mild surprise in the science officer's voice and it matched Kirk's emotions exactly. If Winchester or his crew thought they'd be taken captive with no chance of escape, the _Impala_ would have been so many atoms scattered across the galaxy. If Dean thought the ship was going to be boarded without possibility of being retaken, he would have tried to evacuate at least some crew. The thought of every soul on the _Impala_ being dead was atrocious and ridiculous to boot. Kirk wasn't sure if he was in denial and grasping at straws or reading the situation correctly in questioning the _Impala_'s fate. Still, there was that niggling feeling that he didn't have the whole picture. He wasn't giving up hope yet.

"Something's not right here," he mused. "Put the ship on red alert and prepare for battle. Spock, get me more information."

The incoming ships were fast, experienced and well armed, judging from the way they handled and the scans run by Chekov. It didn't take a tactical genius to realize that _Enterprise_ was in over her head, outnumbered if not outclassed. Kirk had no doubt that his ship could win this confrontation but it would probably cost him functionality. A battle of attrition, leaving the _Enterprise_ limping in space.

He had to come up with a plan that would give him the advantage and simultaneously lead the _Enterprise_ to the lost crew.

No pressure.

* * *

_Lucifer_

It was a planet. They were on a planet. Bobby tucked away this little bit of information as his captor frog-marched him back to the cell. And the only person they had seen for weeks was the sadistic bastard smirking at him as Bobby glared.

So if the complex currently acting as their prison was on a planet and a habitable planet at that, they could afford to wreak structural havoc without fear of killing themselves.

Every little piece of information counted.

* * *

Lucifer swept back into the command centre as Sam watched the space battle begin. "I think we should bring the heroes into this little game of ours, don't you agree, Sammy?" There was a cruel twinkle in Lucifer's eye that had the soft side of Sam flinching. That side was currently locked away and Commander Winchester arched an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"I'll make it simple. You tell Jimmy Kirk you betrayed Starfleet and get rid of him or Deano dies."

Sam shrugged, scribbling out the end to a rather interesting battle scenario. "That gets me nothing. Kirk won't believe me and even if he did, he'd still crush this command centre just on principle. He's that kind of a man."

Lucifer paced about the room with long, loose strides. "And what if I said you had to try your very hardest to convince him anyway?"

Sam set down his PADD. "Not only does that course of action get me nowhere, it gets you nowhere. Unless this post has hidden defences you've locked me out of, the _Enterprise_ will total this base with a single photon torpedo and quite frankly, Kirk will do it."

"Even if you tell him you'll swap the lives of every single _Impala_ crew member (saving your cute little self of course) for the _Enterprise_?"

Sam blinked in confusion. "You'd let everyone except me go and take the _Enterprise_ in return? Isn't this base with its laboratory research more valuable than one Constitution class ship?"

Lucifer clucked in disapproval. "Sammy, I'm disappointed in you. Sure the base is worth more than your average Constitution class ship but it's definitely not worth more than Starfleet's disgraced flagship. What happens to the reputation of Starfleet when the prized golden crew returns from a rather nasty genocidal rampage in Romulan territory?"

Sam digested this new information as Lucifer leaned up against Sam's chair. "Imagine what happens when that same ship starts ravaging her sister ships and the big space docks above Earth? They'll all be screaming and pleading for Starfleet to save them and then we'll show them that Jim Kirk and his crew willingly enabled you and me to cause all this fun. What do you think the good citizens of Earth will think when they realize their two golden crews enabled not one but two genocides?" Lucifer shuddered in ecstasy at the thought.

Sam swallowed bile and punched a few more codes, thinking furiously. He had to save two crews, two ships, the Federation and countless lives with absolutely nothing to go on at the moment except the ravings of a highly intelligent, highly disturbed sociopath.

No pressure.

"Why me?" he asked, disguising mild despair with curiosity.

"Why you, Sam?" Lucifer wheeled on his heel and resumed pacing, eyes fixed on Sam. "That's a very good question. I like that question. I'll answer it for you. You see, when I first ventured onto your little tin can, I gassed everyone pretty thoroughly and then wandered through the corridors looking for worthwhile people." Lucifer gestured to the wide skies on the screen, the _Enterprise_ winning the space battle. "I'm always looking for _that_ person. When I got to the bridge, you and your brother were still conscious and I thought hey, I've found _that_ person in you. Deano, he's not exactly boring, but he's a simple guy. Sharp, sure, and scary on occasion but simple. Straightforward. He had every intention of getting up out of that command chair to stop my existence despite the fact there was no possible way for him to accomplish that goal." Lucifer shrugged artlessly. "An idiot who can't understand when to give up will bore me to tears in a month."

Squatting down in front of Sam, looking up into shocked hazel eyes, he smirked and continued. "You though, I looked at you and saw immediately that you wanted to stop me but knew you couldn't at the time. So you allowed the flow to carry you. You're waiting for your chance. You're confident you and you alone can beat me in the long run. You still think that even now after all this time and I must say, I have never in my life met someone so _arrogant_. Except for me of course."

Lucifer leaned in close. "And that, in a nutshell Sam Winchester, is what makes you interesting."

* * *

Dean let his head tip back against the cell wall with a thump, sweat beading on his forehead. He hadn't been letting himself go to seed in his continued confinement. Every day he went through a rigorous exercise routine so that when Sam came up with some crazy plan Dean would be absolutely ready.

Of course, the kid had had four weeks at this point and Dean was getting sick of waiting. Maybe he should ditch Sam's plea for restraint and try to snap Lucifer's sorry neck.

Too bad Dean figured that their captor was half-Romulan (couldn't be anything else, could he?) and while Dean had never run away from a fight, he also wasn't stupid. The cell was too starkly furnished for Dean to win that kind of encounter and Lucifer had been keeping them on short rations. In prime condition and in a bigger cell, Dean might have stood a chance. In the small confined room with hands that shook from hunger, Dean didn't like his success percentage. He wasn't desperate enough to gamble with his crew's lives.

Yet.

The cell door swished open and Dean amused himself by imagining Lucifer being chased constantly by clowns for all eternity. Give someone other than Sammy a clown complex and it sure as hell would serve this bastard right.

"Come on Deano, stop imagining ways to torture me. I have a friend for you to meet," Lucifer drawled, secure in the knowledge he was in control of the situation.

Sullenly glaring at his jailor, Dean shuffled past the man. When he emerged into the command room a few minutes later, he swore colourfully under his breath before muttering. "_Damn_ Jim Kirk nine ways to hell."

Sam spun in his chair and laughed but Dean frowned. Sam's eyes were dead, lifeless and defeated. Luci had finally said something to Sam that struck a chord. It would have been a lie of course, but Sam wouldn't see it that way. "Jim just doesn't know when to give up, does he?" Sam replied and Dean's worry deepened.

"It's one of his better qualities," he encouraged, flicking his gaze from Lucifer to Sam and back. If Kirk was idiot enough to come all the way into Romulan territory by himself, he'd better make himself useful and find them soon so that Dean could keep this bastard from attacking his brother mentally.

"You sure about that?" Sam asked mildly and Dean's hackles rose in trepidation. Something was about to go down that Dean just wasn't going to like. Nope, not at all. The last time he had felt this worried was when Sam announced his intention of walking into an enraged seething mob of revolutionaries to fetch out an assassin that had tried to kill Sam before Dean put the little jackass in shackles. Dean had managed to talk his brother off that ledge then and he'd damn well talk him off this one too.

If Lucifer would just, oh, drop dead, because clearly the phaser he was currently pointing at the back of Sam's head was clearly set to kill and the mimed zipper drawn across Lucifer's mouth made Dean's role perfectly clear.

And Dean thought the day the _Impala_ had been toasted had been a shit-fest. Clearly he had to get his priorities straight because this one was blowing that particular experience out of the water.

Dean frowned as the ships attacking the _Enterprise_ were called off by his brother. Yep, something was really wrong and he was being goaded into making his brother do it just by breathing.

"This is Commander Sam Winchester, hailing the USS _Enterprise_."

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Captain, I've got Sam Winchester on a secure channel!" Uhura reported, trying to keep her voice professional and failing.

"On screen!" Kirk ordered with a wild leap of hope.

The screen showed a haggard Sam hunched over a small camera, a control room of some sort around him. Kirk beamed a hello but was taken aback when Sam didn't return it.

Something was very wrong.

"Captain Kirk, I'm demanding the surrender of your ship or I personally will execute every member of the USS _Impala_ in front of your eyes in real time." Sam's voice was cold and hard, fists clenched.

"What the hell Sam?" Kirk demanded, set off balance by the fact that he was pretty sure Sam meant what he had just said.

Sam didn't blink. "You have three minutes to comply or I will shoot Dr. Harvelle in the head."

The screen flicked off, leaving a thunderstruck bridge in its wake.


	7. Running in Circles

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

Previously...

"_Captain Kirk, I'm demanding the surrender of your ship or I personally will execute every member of the USS Impala in front of your eyes in real time." Sam's voice was cold and hard, fists clenched. _

"_What the hell Sam?" Kirk demanded._

_Sam didn't blink. "You have three minutes to comply or I will shoot Dr. Harvelle in the head."_

_The screen flicked off, leaving a thunderstruck bridge in its wake._

* * *

_Enterprise_

You don't survive long in Starfleet Command if you can't read people correctly and Jim Kirk was very good at reading people. All of those skills and instincts were telling him right now that Sam Winchester was backed into a very desperate corner. If things did not go his way, he probably would be forced to do something he would regret for the rest of his life.

"Captain?" Spock asked.

"Do it. Surrender," Kirk said quietly. "Uhura, broadcast our surrender, notify the rest of the crew and stand by to receive further orders from our captors." Uhura glanced around the bridge but Spock's stony face and McCoy's thoughtful frown had her following orders in a blink. There was something else going on here.

"Sam Winchester shoot Ellen? No way in hell," McCoy thought aloud.

"Even if Dean was threatened?" Kirk parried, almost absent-mindedly. McCoy acknowledged Kirk's point but held to his original conclusion.

"I concur with Dr. McCoy," Spock admitted, mouth twisting just enough to convey his extreme distaste at having to agree with the overly emotional doctor. "I do not believe Sam would allow himself to be drawn into such a situation."

Kirk swivelled in his chair. "If Dean were threatened, Sam would play a crazy desperate gamble and make it stick. We need to help him make that gamble stick."

"Captain," Uhura interrupted. "We are being hailed by Commander Winchester and his captor, who identifies himself as Lucifer."

"Lucifer? Really? What two-bit douche-bag names himself Lucifer?" Kirk sniffed in disdain. McCoy arched a wry eyebrow and Kirk sputtered in indignation at the silent implication.

"That two-bit douche-bag has one of Starfleet's brightest crews under his control," McCoy pointed out. "I'll wager a case of Romulan ale he's your evil mastermind."

"No takers. You were saying, Uhura?"

"Lucifer is insisting that everyone except for Captain Kirk and Commander Spock beam down to the planet without resistance or weapons. We have one minute to comply or he begins executing _Impala _crew members." Uhura's voice grew smaller and smaller as she continued explaining.

"All right. Everyone to the transporters and Scotty, the only thing you're allowed to sabotage is that cloak. Understood? Spock, make sure Commander Winchester makes it off this ship. Someone with experience and a clear head will probably be needed on-planet." Kirk ignored the startled looks shot his way. By his reckoning, Commander Singer was most likely emotionally compromised and at the very least he wouldn't take well to the series of events about to occur. Despite all the emotional stress Commander Winchester had been under, nothing quite approximated being held hostage for several weeks and Kirk was hoping John Winchester understood that Commander Singer may not be functioning at a hundred percent.

Otherwise this whole farce was about to go bang and kill somebody. Knowing Kirk's luck, it'd be him.

With that cheerfully fatalistic outlook, he chivvied everyone off the bridge, ignoring a very indignant Bones who was trying to insist that he should stick around.

No way in hell. Bones always looked before he shot and while the CMO was a damn good shot, that split second hesitation would get McCoy killed in this sort of situation.

Spock understood this and the fact Kirk didn't have to explain any of it to him was part of what made the Vulcan such a valuable friend, officer and partner. Thus McCoy's last view of his captain was over his first officer's shoulder, spitting epithets at both of them in a thick, venom-laden Georgia drawl.

When the lift doors closed, Kirk shrugged. "He'll forgive us, right?"

Spock shot him an amused glance.

"Eventually, right?"

* * *

_Lucifer_

"I wanna meet Jimmy Kirk," Lucifer drawled, holding a weapon on a fuming Ash as Dean and Sam reluctantly stepped onto the transporter pad. "I've heard he's quite the man. But I warn you right now, if he's a disappointment, he's going to die in agony on the floor of his beloved ship. Understand? And Ash, make sure you don't transport me into empty space. If you do, I've got this nasty little dead man's switch wired up to my vital systems. I die, you die, capisce?"

Ash shrugged and slapped the transporter console. He took a deep breath, trying to control the tremors wracking his frame as the _Enterprise_ crew rematerialized. "You bunch of stupid, retarded, utterly soft-brained moronically altruistic idiots! Why the hell did you surrender?" he almost shouted at the blinking command crew.

"Stand _down_ Commander," John Winchester barked immediately, stepping off the pad and into the bunker with authority. "As per Captain Kirk's orders, I am now in charge of this expedition. Currently our primary objective is to liberate and ascertain the condition of Starfleet members. Chekov, get moving on the computer and whatever you do, don't get us all blown to kingdom come. Cupcake, secure the area. Take Sulu and Uhura. Everyone else will secure a two room perimeter around the command centre. Keep your eyes open. Just because we haven't seen any other hostiles yet doesn't mean they're not here."

_Enterprise_ crew members snapped to John's orders, flooding the halls. Crossing the weapons scanner wasn't a problem – they hadn't brought anything that could possibly set off a very careful Lucifer's warning systems. "What are, what is…" Ash fumbled helplessly and John laid a big hand on his shoulder.

"Been held here a while, haven't you?" he asked sympathetically. He understood. Even the most resilient mind would feel the strain of being the prisoner of someone who had planned for them so thoroughly. _Impala_ crew members were used to being clever, used to being the ones who wriggled out of impossible situations with ease. "You did good, hanging in there that long. Come on genius, we need you. Can you get around this jackass' security system?"

Ash stopped quivering and glanced at the computer console next to Chekov's. "I bet I can get past the firevall first," Chekov threw cheekily over his shoulder.

"Jackass," Ash replied affectionately, gaining his second wind. "No way in hell. I'm the computer god, remember?"

John nodded in satisfaction and left them to it.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Winchester," Kirk greeted neutrally, ignoring the leering sociopath hanging his arms off the Winchester brothers' shoulders.

"Kirk. How's life?"

"Oh, you know. So-so. Who's the amoeba?"

"Fungus we can't get rid of."

"Tried burning it?"

"Poisons the air."

"Damn."

Lucifer rolled his eyes and broke in. "Ha-ha, very funny you two. Now, we're going to do something you'll all like. We're going to have some target practice with the Romulans!" Kirk and Dean exchanged glances and Lucifer waggled his phaser. "None of that. Remember my switch? I've given it _options_. Piss me off and a beloved crew member dies. I'm going down to engineering to make sure you haven't done anything nasty to the engines and you're going to stay here like good little puppies." He stepped back into the elevator and waved. "Go on, talk amongst yourselves."

As soon as the door hissed shut, Dean whirled on Sam. "Wanna tell us what you've got planned now, boy-genius?" he demanded. Tension hummed through Sam now that Lucifer wasn't watching and he eyed the pinprick cameras stationed around the bridge.

"Chekov's got them disabled and encrypted to the nines. It'll take him at least ten minutes to hack them, so I figure we've got five minutes of free talk time," Kirk offered.

Sam took a deep breath. "Right. You sent the crew down unarmed."

Kirk fidgeted and Spock's face was a blank slab of marble.

"You sent them down unarmed right?"

"Sammy!" Kirk spread his hands disarmingly. "You ordered it so! No weapons. You never said anything about break-out doohickeys or tools."

"Jim! How could you? If Lucifer finds out…" Sam's voice echoed stridently as he waved his hands emphatically.

Kirk stopped kidding around and assumed a sober face. "Simple. Lucifer's taking us and the _Enterprise_. He's leaving everything of interest behind. If I were Lucifer, I wouldn't be leaving loose ends behind. Sure, if he finds the contraband, you're damn right he'll kill them on the spot but if I did nothing, they'd be dead just the same." Kirk's eyes met Sam's squarely. "Am I right?"

"He's not wrong Sam and you know it," Dean volunteered.

"Two minutes and twenty three seconds have expired, Captain." Spock nodded towards the cameras.

"Sam, any real ideas of what happens next?"

Sam shook his head. "I know what Lucifer has planned but I'm fairly sure you do as well. I do have an endgame but nothing for the immediate moment. I was going to make it up – you can't plan too concretely with Lucifer around. You know the ship better than I do, Jim. What do you have in mind?"

"Well," Kirk winced at the venture he was going to describe, "it's not one of my better plans but I have nothing else. Letting the _Enterprise_ back into Federation space under Lucifer's control would be disaster. So naturally we have to get ourselves killed."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh joy."

* * *

_On-planet_

John broke the _Impala_ crew out of their cell and ordered them all to huddle in the command room. "I don't care how long you've been in that cell, we haven't disabled all of Lucifer's traps. We're going to need each and every one of you so unless I order otherwise, you stay put! Singer, with me."

Bobby glanced up from tending a wounded crew member. "What do you want?"

"Chekov and Ash are stumped. Lucifer's dead-locked the system and we need you to crack the mechanics open." John pointed towards the open panel in the wall showing blinking hard drives.

"I know you all think I'm a wizard but I need tools to work with and I haven't seen so much as a spanner in this entire compound," was Bobby's gruff and somewhat pessimistic reply.

"I know," John said rather lightly given the dire situation. "That's why we packed a Sam-special. Chekov, get your ass over here!"

The Russian bounced enthusiastically over to Bobby. "I vanted to use this myself but Ash and Commander Vinchester vill not let me. They seem to think I vill blow us all to kingdom come," he lamented, producing one of Sam's more useful prototype gadgets. "You'll let me help though, right?"

Snatching the trinket from Chekov, Bobby studied it as a small pile of tools accumulated on the table beside him. "Where did you get that?" Bobby demanded brusquely. "And how the _hell_ did you get it past Lucifer's scans? Scratch that, how the hell did you get the tools past the scanners?"

John looked oddly uncomfortable, avoiding looking at the involved crew members as Uhura, Chekov and Cupcake squirmed. "Trust me, you don't want to know. Just use it to disable those systems threatening our immediate safety, will ya? After that, you need to get the _Impala_ up and running."

Bobby stared at his old friend like he'd completely lost his marbles. "And how the hell do you expect me to do that?" he asked mildly.

John grinned. "You'll think of something."

And to Bobby's exasperated exhilaration, he did come up with something. The booby trap system was elaborate and intricate but physically tied into the power grid. After Bobby had located schematics, it was simple enough to send an engineering ensign down to disconnect anything life threatening from the grid.

Then Bobby focused in on the _Impala_. John had considered picking up a Romulan ship but Kirk had been adamant that the _Impala_'s speed was crucial to the endgame, whatever it was. He hadn't seen fit to enlighten John. Ignoring his personal confusion, John chivvied, bullied and encouraged the engineering teams and alpha shift until triage had been applied to the most crucial systems of the _Impala_. Atmosphere wasn't back, gravity nil and the old girl shook alarmingly while Bobby coaxed her wheezing engines back to life but eight hours after the _Enterprise_ had fallen into Lucifer's hands, the _Impala_ was beginning her first field tests.

It wasn't going to be a comfortable ride. Air had been ferried up to the vacuum-exposed ship via shuttle, an inefficient method that hadn't been used in decades. Heating was minimal and everyone had to wear survival suits in case one of the patches gave. The bridge was useless and Castiel found himself piloting the ship from a small thirteen-inch monitor in engineering, ducking every time an engineer wanted to access the environment panel behind his little pilot station. Ash was twenty feet away rewiring the diagnostics computer to display navigation and when asked about weapons or shields, a harried Bobby had threatened John with dismemberment.

But the _Impala_ lived again. She limped through space towards Federation borders at pitifully low speeds as Bobby continued coaxing her along.

"I don't know what the hell Captain Kirk wants me to do," John muttered under his breath, standing beside Castiel in the informal captain's 'spot.' "He couldn't possibly have expected us to repair this ship to anything more than warp 5 but he insisted on the_ Impala_. Why?"

"Commander! We have a bogey on the scanners!" Ash cursed the very limited, damaged sensors. It was like trying to navigate a swamp with a candle. "Approximately 100 000 kilometres off port bow."

John swore.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"I'm back!" Lucifer trilled. "Looks like you were a good boy, Captain Kirk. This lovely ship is in impeccable condition. Have you come up with a plan to bring me to ruin? Of course you have, that's what makes this fun."

"Spock?" Kirk murmured almost inaudibly.

"It would be unwise until we are certain Commander Winchester has disabled the system."

"Understood. So taking Luci is the last resort?"

"Unfortunately."

"What are you two whispering about?" Lucifer demanded with curiosity.

Kirk sent him a shark's smile. "Nothing."

Lucifer smiled back. "Naturally. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Dean, I want to go to these coordinates and you're the pilot! Hop to it, there's a lad. Sammy, you sit on the floor right there. I don't want you or Spock anywhere near a computer. Jim, you get to navigate! Wobble away from the set course and – " Lucifer shrugged, miming an explosion.

"Right," Kirk muttered. "Two captains and their first officers behind held by one man. This is a joke."

"Isn't it, Jim? That's why I say morals are overrated. You should just let your crews go and try to kill me. It'll make life interesting." Lucifer swivelled back and forth playfully in Kirk's beloved command chair.

"Gonna need a looooot of bleach to get the contaminant out of that chair," Dean commented under his breath as he pushed the _Enterprise_ to a comfortable warp 7.

Kirk swallowed his rising gorge as Lucifer wriggled around in Kirk's chair. "You're telling me. If it weren't the most comfortable thing I've ever sat in, I'd get a new one. Still might."

They sullenly piloted the _Enterprise_ back into the heart of the Romulan Empire. "Requesting shields," Kirk demanded as various traders began to take notice of the big Federation ship.

"Oh, I don't think so. I want to know exactly how you got this far into Romulan space without one of my ships spotting you. And I have many, many ships Jimmy so I know this ship has something _special_." Lucifer's sharp eyes didn't miss the glance shot between Kirk and his first officer. At Kirk's arched eyebrow, Spock shook his head. Lucifer jumped in. "Don't be like that, Spock. There has to be something you can do."

Spock's expression defined bland Starfleet professionalism. "I regret to inform you," and Spock's lip barely twisted in scorn of the word 'you,' "that this ship has nothing so vaguely quantified as 'special.' An inspection of the ship's log might disclose the information sought."

Lucifer leaned in close to Sam. "Yeah, glad I took you first. He'd be no fun at all. Maybe that would change if I killed him. Death throes of a half-Vulcan, you know. Might be something interesting."

Sam looked bored as he sat cross-legged on the floor. "But the mess," he complained, keeping a discreet eye on two very tense captains. "There's only four of us if you kill him. Those two are piloting and there's no way in hell I'm cleaning up after you."

Lucifer smiled widely. "Sammy, who said anything about cleaning up the mess?" A long knife flickered around his fingers as predatory eyes locked onto Spock. "And it's not a mess. I prefer to think of it as a work of art. Unique every single time. Even the most boring person can become beautiful after a good murder."

"Do that," Kirk broke in abruptly, "and this ship blows to smithereens."

That caught Lucifer's attention. "Explain."

Kirk smirked, spinning around in Chekov's chair. "Simple. We figured you were going to do something particularly nasty like that so I planned ahead. You're hooked up to the_ Impala_ crew? We're hooked up to the _Enterprise_'s very efficient self-destruct. Bones really wasn't happy about it but I figured it'd be an interesting twist."

Lucifer whistled in admiration, the knife disappearing up a sleeve. "Sneaky. So I can kill Dean then?"

Kirk shrugged. "Ask Sam, I think he has an opinion on that." He turned back to the navigation console in apparent disinterest.

"Kill Dean," Sam said lowly, "and I will condemn you to the blandest, most boring existence possible. You will not have your anticipated victory. You will not kill me. You will not even die yourself at my hand. You will live a quiet, civilized life in a nice sanatorium until you are so old they have to feed you through a tube, you cannot change yourself and your brain melts to senile mush."

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's a new one." Still, he dropped the subject and put away his weapons. "Are we there yet? We're on a tight schedule and have to pick someone up."


	8. The Devil's Hands

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

_Enterprise_

The _Enterprise_ idled alongside a dingy little space station in the middle of nowhere. Despite more wheedling, Lucifer had been forced to order shields up when none of his captives gave up the answer he was looking for. Now all of Romulan space was buzzing and it was sickening to realize exactly how much of said space Lucifer controlled – with one comm call, the man had brushed off every single opportunistic Romulan ship looking to bag the famed _Enterprise._

Now Lucifer dialled up the communications system with lazy, unhurried movements. The call was answered immediately, as if the person had been waiting impatiently for quite some time. The screen was immediately filled with the skeletal face of a Romulan who greatly enjoyed cruelty. A hawked nose curved over thin lips as glittering eyes glared at Lucifer.

"You're _late_."

"I am never late, Alistair." Lucifer's tone of voice easily delivered a cheerful warning. To the Starfleeters' surprise, the Romulan backed off with a sneer. Cautious, respectful of Lucifer's power and completely lacking in morals or compassion – oddly sensible in a way that most Romulans couldn't be. This new individual required careful handling.

"You've picked up some pets, Lucifer," the man pointed out. Lucifer patted a stoic Sam's head.

"I have, haven't I? I quite like them. They're not boring, not at all. Even you're boring on occasion, dear Alistair. Don't worry; I won't hold it against you. Did you know if you threaten Jimmy here he'll wire himself and his first officer into the ship's core so you can't kill them?"

Alistair blinked, a cruel light blooming in his eyes. "Really? Can I have one? Just one? I promise to make it fun for you." Lucifer tipped his head to one side, considering. Kirk found himself praying that Lucifer didn't like to share because Alistair was clearly completely insane with none of their current captor's restraint.

"Hum," Lucifer mused. "I don't know. How about we blow up the _Impala _instead?" Alistair's face lit up like it was Christmas while Dean and Jim exchanged glances. Jim shrugged. If his crew didn't manage to get Lucifer's electronic mess sorted out by this point, they were either in so far over their heads they'd never make it out or they were snoozing on the job. He nodded ever so slightly to Dean. Chekov and Ash would have it sorted. They just had to have faith.

"And BOOM!" Lucifer crowed, breaking into the silent conversation. "Boom?" he repeated quizzically when the little computer unit refused to register the appropriate explosion. "Jim?" Lucifer asked quietly, the steely word coated in velvet.

Kirk had to suppress the frisson of fear that tried to creep down his spine and spun around in his chair with a wide, slightly false grin. "You said no weapons. Never said _anything_ about hacking. Or what they were allowed to do after you left."

For the first time, they could see unfettered rage in Lucifer and Kirk briefly thought "Well shit, this is where the fat lady sings," because the demon in front of him was shuddering, quivering, eyes dark with unrestrained emotion. Kirk raised a hand, holding his first officer back. It would take a very determined Vulcan to match Lucifer's mad strength and while Spock was up to it, the fight wouldn't end prettily for Kirk's first officer. Kirk was hoping that Lucifer's emotional control would hold.

Then Lucifer took a long, long breath in through his nose.

"I don't need the captains," he remarked casually – too casually. "Alistair, you can have both of them down in engineering."

Sam and Spock immediately tensed as Kirk and Dean exchanged resigned looks. Alistair was practically salivating with sick anticipation. "We can take him," Sam whispered.

"Affirmative," Spock murmured.

* * *

_Impala_

"Bobby?" John demanded.

"What the hell do you from me, a choir of angels and a trip to Tahiti?"

"Tahiti would be nice but I'll settle for the eyes to identify our new neighbour." The interim commander of the _Impala_ watched as Bobby readjusted the non-regulation, grimy antique cap he constantly wore and kicked the sensor unit. "Is that a patented Singer repair technique?"

Bobby glared at him and wordlessly turned to fix the nearest engineering nerd with a beady eye. "Got you one more sir! It only took me an hour," the kid chirped enthusiastically and Bobby's expression of frustration ratcheted up another level.

"One sensor? In an hour?" he demanded. "We need at least two more to triangulate!" The nerd melted and Bobby sighed, clapping a tired hand on the technician's shoulder. "Good try Jake. Keep at it. Chekov, do what you can to help him out. John, we're sitting ducks and even though I am a damned genius, there's not a damned thing I can do about it. Open communications and beg for mercy, that's what I'd advise. While shoving the younger kids into the few functioning life pods, I might add."

It was John's turn to rub his temples and glare at nothing in general, sending subordinates skipping out of the way with alacrity. "What if we pretend to be derelict and then take the bogey when they attempt to board?"

Bobby snorted. "_Pretend_ to be derelict?" Ash and Sulu snickered at the haphazard pilot console and Castiel smirked slightly. John sighed and reflected semi-fondly that he didn't know how his son managed these insubordinate snots.

"Yes, pretend. Arm everyone and stand-by to assault boarders."

There was an immediate scramble to fulfil John's orders to the letter as Uhura tried to wheedle the comm system into life. "Anything?" John asked and Uhura shook her head grimly. Like so many other routines and systems on the _Impala_, it'd need a complete refit.

Thus the _Impala_ crew hovered tensely around strategic points of entry, guessing as to where the anticipated enemy would transport in. Ash was busy convincing a reluctantly armed Bones to talk down an alpha shift member when the musical chime of a transporter beam sounded in the shuttle bay. Immediately snapping up his phaser, Ash drew a bead on the sole being materializing.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" the man shouted, hands raised in the air and Ash recognized him in a heartbeat, repeating the order at the top of his lungs. He stepped out into the open, surveying their visitor with a slowly dawning, slightly disbelieving hope.

"Captain Reynolds?"

"The one and only," the free trader grinned, lowering his hands. "Hell. How is this thing still atmosphere-worthy?" he asked, looking around at the scarred walls.

"Never say die," Ash replied stoutly. "What the hell are you doing this far out in enemy territory?"

Captain Reynolds shrugged. "Kirk said you'd be in pieces when we found you. He dumped off a bunch of credits and told me to pick up an _Impala_ first aid kit. Who's in charge around here?"

Ash tagged Commander Winchester, who eyed up the colourful Mal Reynolds with a sceptical eye. "Kirk got you to bail us out?"

Reynolds shrugged. "Hey, if you don't want the help I can always sell the warp cores and other parts for a tidy profit a few sectors over."

"Mal's a good guy, Commander," Ash tossed in. "Dean likes him."

"Where is the captain anyway? He owes me a drink," Reynolds queried as Commander Winchester relaxed a hair. Jo scowled and slung her large phaser rifle over one shoulder.

"He's with Captain Kirk, Commander Spock and Commander Winchester. They're still being held by the dick who captured us." Her voice was flat and disapproving of idiot, self-sacrificing captains.

Reynolds frowned. "Well then, I guess there's no time to lose. Can I transport the rest of my people in here without getting shot?" he asked Commander Winchester sardonically.

John flashed a brief, barely amused smirk. He was beginning to like this Captain Reynolds.

He liked Captain Reynolds even better when Bobby confirmed that the_ Impala_ was beginning to feel more like herself. New warp cores, jury-rigged into place with connections that an enthusiastic Kaylee promised would hold (probably) returned the heart of the ship to life. The atmospheric controls stabilized under protest as Chekov swore impressively at them in Russian until they complied. Drs. Harvelle and McCoy managed to find a suitable lab for conversion into a replacement infirmary. The bridge was re-pressurized after the experienced salvagers of the _Serenity_ welded new deck plates over the biggest rents in the _Impala_'s hull.

"You're back in business for now," Reynolds concluded twelve hours after Ash had first encountered their battered guardian angels. "And since you're no longer going to implode, we are out of here. Tell Kirk he owes me a lifetime of Romulan ale for this stunt."

John nodded, shaking the _Serenity_ captain's hand firmly. "You saved our asses. Thanks. I know what kind of risk you ran."

Reynolds shrugged and tucked his hands into the long brown coat. "Winchester's good for it. And if you lot end up dead there's no hope for Starfleet. Can't let that happen, can we?"

John grinned in response, using the quick banter to squash down the worry over his sons. When the _Serenity_ swooped away, the battered _Impala_ was left standing still in space.

"Now vhat?" Chekov asked into the still bridge.

John scowled at the screen. It was a succinct question that echoed around the entire ship.

Too bad he didn't have an answer.

* * *

_Enterprise_

It was a damn good attack.

Spock lunged first with inhuman speed, tackling Lucifer around the knees. Sam hit a heartbeat later, slamming their captor's head off Sulu's console with a sickening crack. Dazed, Lucifer lashed out with a knife in either hand but Sam hadn't spent three weeks observing the man for nothing. Two quick twists and the knives skittered across the floor, snatched up by Kirk as Dean wheeled the _Enterprise _about, skipping her backwards.

Alistair sat back in his command chair with a cruel smirk as the station's phasers nipped at the _Enterprise_'s heels. "Do let me know if you subdue him. I might let you live if you give him to me."

"Oh yeah, that's a good idea," Dean muttered sarcastically, running a quick sensor scan for hostile ships in the area. "Sam?"

"He's down," Sam growled and Dean fought the urge to spin around just to check on his brother. Spock wouldn't let Sam do anything he'd regret later and Dean didn't have the time to puzzle out what was going on in his brother's overactive head.

"Spock, throw our friend here in the brig," Kirk ordered briskly, eyeing his seat with combined disgust and sympathy. To sit in the contaminated chair or not? Kirk decided not to give Lucifer the satisfaction and sank into the chair with a sigh. "Sam, do me a favour and go with him. Alistair, was it? Surrender now and we won't blow your little hidey-hole to bits."

Alistair almost purred in amusement. "I don't think so, Captain Kirk. You see, you don't know what exactly my…colleague was planning and I do. You do know it won't be pleasant. And my price is rather reasonable given the circumstances. Give me…hmm," cold, lecherous eyes scanned the _Enterprise _bridge, "Captain Dean Winchester and my freedom. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Kirk snorted. "You mean Lucifer doesn't see fit to disclose everything to his attack dog." Alistair stiffened and the space station shuddered, spat liquid fire at the_ Enterprise_ despite the ship being out of range. "Temper, temper," Kirk chided, gaining more insight into the livid being holding secrets that could seriously damage the Federation.

Still, Alistair had a point. He had vital information and Kirk had just pissed him off. "I'll do it," Dean said suddenly and Kirk had to squash a violent urge to kick his friend in the head.

Alistair calmed instantly, leering at Dean. "I think you and I are going to get along perfectly."

Kirk fumed. "The hell you're going," he barked without thinking.

"Captain," Dean reminded him. "You can't stop me," he finished, wheeling around to glare at his friend only to freeze just as the doors swished shut behind a stark-white Sam Winchester.

"What?" Sam asked just above a whisper and Alistair's grin grew bigger, grew teeth.

"Dean's coming with me," he crowed, savouring the roiling emotions running rampant around the _Enterprise_ bridge.

Kirk punched the screen off, cutting the connection just as Sam's fist crashed into Dean's jaw. Toppled out of his chair, Dean glared at his brother as he held his chin like it was made of glass. Ignoring his brother's now-sore face, Sam hauled him up off the floor to eye level. "No."

Dean opened his mouth and Sam repeated himself. "_No_. I just went through hell for the past three weeks. I am not losing you."

Dean shrugged disarmingly as his stained grey jumpsuit tightened around his collarbone. "Hell Sam, I didn't – " Sam shook him like a puppy and Dean glared, dropping the funny-man routine. "What are you going to do if entire solar systems die because you couldn't let me do what was necessary?"

Sam gaped as if he'd been slapped. Jim tried his very hardest to melt into his chair while Spock made like a support girder – silent, invisible and poker straight.

Dean's full weight hit the floor with a soft thump as he tugged his jumpsuit straight, watching his little brother's shoulders slump, the angry light fade out of his eyes. "Shit Sam," Dean began and Sam backed away, swallowing hard. "Sam," Dean tried again but Sam appeared deaf and the door hissed shut behind him.

"Nice," Kirk commented sarcastically.

"Oh shut up."

"Are you going after him?"

Dean frowned and sat back down in the pilot's chair, massaging his jaw gingerly. "No. We have to figure out what to do with Alistair and Lucifer." And Sam wouldn't listen to him right now anyway, he figured.

"You're an idiot," Kirk tried again and Dean flinched. When Dean didn't budge, Kirk took things into his own hands. "Spock?" he asked, jerking a head towards the door. Had Spock admitted to having human expression, Kirk would have filed the look on Spock's face under 'drowning,' but the Vulcan nodded once and took himself off to attempt to fill his captain's orders.

"How are we going to play this?" Dean demanded, ignoring the prickle of guilt trying to choke him.

Kirk blew out a heated breath in exasperation. "I don't know."

"Great."

* * *

Sam leaned blindly against the wall of a corridor somewhere in the _Enterprise_. He hadn't run, not exactly, but he had wandered unseeing until his whirling thoughts forced him to stop and try to sort them out.

It was all crashing down on him. He thought he'd been free of that weight when he and Spock took Lucifer down. Now the knowledge that the nightmare wasn't over yet swamped him. Sam had been trying so hard for three weeks to keep everyone alive because Lucifer picked _him_, thought Sam could be a sociopath like him. He knew he wasn't like Lucifer, he knew Dean knew that, he knew his family knew it too but the idea that Lucifer resonated with straight-forward, Starfleet-employed Sam Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas rattled him to the core.

Then, just as Sam thought they might be pulling out of the insane dive the _Impala_ crew had been riding for three weeks, Dean threw his life into the mix again with all the care one reserved for a used napkin.

An inhumanly warm hand landed hesitantly on his shoulder. "Sam?"

He thought about jerking away but found himself far too tired to do anything more than slide down to sit on the floor, elbows propped on knees, hands fisted in his hair. Idly, he watched Spock's rock-solid boots refuse to fidget until the Vulcan sat down beside him in a perfect meditation pose.

"It must be difficult," Spock mused uncharacteristically aloud, "to feel responsible for the entire Federation." Sam snorted but didn't reply. "Your brother must be under a great deal of pressure. It seems be a requirement of great captains, to be lacking in sensible thought processes." There was a quiet pause in which both first officers reflected on the truth of that last statement. If anyone understood even a little, it was Spock.

"I find that since accepting my post on the _Enterprise_ I understand human emotion far better than I once did and I can accept its strengths but it seems to be a weakness as well. Dean is afraid for all the life beings threatened and he knows the best way to force you to allow him accomplish his goal is to cause grievous hurt. I am correct?" The faint question at the end of the last sentence had Sam shrugging.

"Doesn't make it better," Sam's voice was hoarse.

Spock inclined his head in agreement. "I believe I understand the pain of anticipated loss although I do not attempt to understand your personal emotions." With something approaching humour, he added, "I have quite enough trouble with my own."

"Aw, a heart-to-heart. How nice." Lucifer's voice was thick with rage and cruel joy.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Kirk felt like he was drowning. Problem one: a close friend was going to throw himself to a slavering jackal for information that was probably false. Problem two: said jackal was hounding Kirk for an answer. Problem three: Spock and Sam were missing. Problem four: his ship was vastly understaffed and he couldn't get her up to speed.

Good thing he had locked Dean out of both the transporter and the comm system or his idiot buddy would already be over on the station. Instead, said idiot buddy was trying to hack the enemy space station's computer from the science station and having little luck while Kirk realized that his state of the art brig had held Lucifer for exactly seventeen minutes. He had promptly locked down the bridge and nosed around Bones' files until he found the secret folder that held the bio-tracker Bones thought he didn't know about.

According to the slightly illegal chip, Spock (and presumably Sam) was being held in the bowels of engineering where Lucifer could do a hell of a lot of damage to both the _Enterprise_ and his captives. To top it off, he still didn't have a clue as to what Lucifer was playing at.

So Kirk locked down the entire ship, froze out the mainframe computer and tripped the whole thing to blow in less than ten seconds should Lucifer attempt to crack Kirk's electronic defenses. He fished out his personal communicator and was using it to contact Alistair with the intent of spinning him something to hold Alistair while Kirk and Dean tracked down their first officers when he realized the bridge was empty.

"_Fuck_," he swore and pitched the communicator at the wall in an unusual fit of pique.

Damn Dean Winchester.


	9. Into the Breach

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

_Impala_

Ash twiddled his thumbs as he sat alongside his partners in crime. "Whaddaya think the commander's going to do?" he asked idly.

"What do you think he's going to do? Kirk didn't give him any orders beyond meeting up with the _Serenity_." Sulu snorted as he thumped on the broken panel he was attempting to repair.

Chekov rolled his eyes and nudged Castiel so the pilot held the fibre optic cables in place a little better. "He is Commander Vinchester," he piped in. "Obwiously he is going to find the _Enterprise_ with the goal of rescuing the keptins and commanders."

"You're such an optimist," Ash rejoined pessimistically. "We're all going to end up very dead."

"I agree with Chekov," Castiel chipped in just as John clapped his hands for attention, seeing as the comm system was still shaky.

"Listen up people. Here's how we're going to do this."

"Oh this should be good," Ash muttered and yelped when Jo pinched him.

"Shut up and don't be a wet blanket," she chided like a sister would.

John turned a gimlet eye on his rambunctious crew, immediately sniffing out the tension and fear underlying the light banter. "We need an undercover ship," he ordered briskly. Give them a new problem to solve and they'd stop picking at each other, stop worrying to death. "The _Impala_'s not exactly subtle. And for those of you with moral qualms about piracy, half of us are Starfleet fugitives and the other half are officially dead according to that same Starfleet. Ash, Chekov, get on it. I want something fast and unnoticeable and I don't care where you get it as long as its previous owners don't track us down to bite us in the ass."

Ash and Chekov glanced at each other, Ash rubbing his hands together with sudden glee. "Ve should find something special," Chekov mused, fingers already scrambling over the dilapidated console that still stubbornly crackled with leaking electricity.

John nodded in satisfaction. "Jo, get me the best infiltration squad you've got. Ellen, I need everyone running as close to 100% as you can get them. No one sneaks up on us, Uhura." The _Enterprise_'s communications officer nodded, settling her headset with grim determination.

"Commander, I believe ve have vhat you are looking for," Chekov reported calmly. Too calmly, Sulu thought, and narrowed his eyes. The Russian navigator was practically vibrating on the spot.

"And we've got a tow on it already," Ash crowed with glee, slapping the hiccupping display screen cheerfully. Everyone on the bridge gathered around the little console as the bridge maintenance crew mourned the death of the big view screen.

"You stole _that_?" John asked incredulously.

"Acquired," Chekov corrected primly. "They did not seem to be using it."

John could do nothing more than laugh in amused disbelief. "All right. Let's stash the _Impala_ in a solid hiding spot and transfer over to our new ride."

* * *

_Enterprise_

Sam's head felt like a thousand jackhammers were rattling around inside his skull. He was flat out on his back on a cool, smooth surface. Cracking his right eye open with caution, he tried to lift his head and look around. The jackhammers intensified and he let his head drop again. He couldn't quite suppress a groan and recognized the stomach-lurching symptoms of a severe concussion. Dean. Where was Dean? He mentally groped through his hazy memory.

Spock. Spock had been with him. Where was Spock?

"'Pock?" he croaked out into the room.

"No Spock," a familiar voice replied. "You know Sam, I'm quite impressed with your friends. Spock gave me quite the crack on the noggin and it hurt like hell. That doesn't usually happen to me. And Jimmy, he's a piece of work. Wiring himself and Spock into the _Enterprise_'s self-destruct is something I'd think of myself. Too bad I had enough time to unhook Spock from that little plan. And Alistair's got Dean-o. Poor Jim Kirk's so very busy running around the _Enterprise_ trying to track down his friends. It won't take me long to find Jim and add him to my collection. Until then, you'll have to do."

Lucifer. The man was Lucifer and Sam hated him.

"Yeah, I know you hate me Sammy and that's what makes our relationship special," Lucifer stated with chilling calm and Sam realized he'd been mumbling aloud. "Really Sam, you're throwing quite the spanner into my plans and while I like ad-libbing as much as the next guy, this is getting tiring. I'm a big-picture man at heart, moved on from my individualistic roots, you see? I want to do something nice, witness something like the Federation and the Romulan Empire tearing each other apart. Let's be honest Sam. You're not going to do anything about my plans anymore so just sit here like a good boy so I can go have some fun with Spock. Okay?"

Sam heard Lucifer's feet move away and a security force field snap up. So he was in the _Enterprise_'s brig without any of his toys. He knew Jim's security was damn good and breaking out of the cell was probably going to be murder.

Murder. The thought had a slightly hysterical chuckle bubbling up in his throat.

Spock. Dean. Jim.

Sam shoved himself to a sitting position and automatically tried to stick an arm out for support when his head spun dizzily. That arm protested violently and Sam cudgeled his brain into operation so he could assess the damage. A busted arm. A broken knee. It was methodical – poor man's restraints and very effective.

At the rate he was accumulating hazard pay, Sam observed humourlessly, he'd be able to retire from active duty in five years instead of forty.

Assuming of course that he survived this little misadventure.

* * *

Jim Kirk was having a shitty, shitty day. He glared at the sparking, damaged transporter controls as if he could scare it into operation.

To reiterate – _damn_ Dean Winchester.

He was stranded on the _Enterprise_ while Dean ran off to confront a sick sociopath who wanted to use Dean as his personal torture droid. Kirk couldn't haul his ass out of trouble because Dean had taken it upon himself to 'protect' his friend from following him by blasting the transporter controls. Spock and Sam were missing. And sections of the _Enterprise_ were starting to shut down systematically at the command of Lucifer, who was humming tunelessly and annoyingly over the comm system. Kirk was trapped like a rat on his beloved ship.

He planted himself down on the transporter pad and forced himself to stop. Stop and _think_. Sam and Spock were missing. Dean was definitely in mortal peril. No one was safe but Dean was the one in imminent danger. To top it off, Spock would definitely make sure the _Enterprise _stayed in one piece. Kirk wasn't too sure about the rickety space station they were currently parked beside.

Grab Dean, stick Alistair in the closest airlock, rescue Sam and Spock, stick Lucifer in the closest airlock and then hoof it back to rendezvous with the _Impala_. That was the plan. It was a good plan. He just hoped it was the right one and his priorities weren't skewed out of orbit.

No point in freaking out over that decision now though.

To the shuttle bay. As the lights flickered over his head, Kirk broke into a flat-out run, careening through the corridors like a hamster on speed until he flung himself into a shuttle and zipped out of the bay just before the atmospheric shields failed. The shuttles would be fine but had Kirk been ten seconds slower, he would have been cruelly yanked out into hard vacuum.

He shook off the implications of his narrow escape and piloted towards the space station.

* * *

It was rare for Vulcans to experience concussions. As famously noted, their physique was inherently stronger than humans and even as a half-Vulcan, Spock was no exception.

All this meant at the moment was that when Spock did experience a concussion, it was, to quote Captain Kirk, a bitch.

He managed to open his eyes and sit up. He was in one of the _Enterprise_'s solitary cells. Blinking dazedly, Spock attempted to assess the situation and ignore his pounding headache.

"Awake yet?" Lucifer asked redundantly as he buzzed himself into the cell. Spock noted warily that the security screen immediately popped back up, leaving no chance for the first officer to escape. "You really rang my bell, you know? That doesn't happen very often, but I imagine you know that already that we're both tough cookies. You being from the starched stiff side of the family and all." The sociopath settled himself comfortably in the corner across from Spock. "I told Sam I was going to have fun with you," he mused. "But honestly, I don't know what would make you _fun_. Vulcans are such a bore."

Spock settled into the meditation pose he had been using when Lucifer whacked him on the head. Really, the captain was going to be very unimpressed with his first officer when Spock told him that Soock had let Lucifer just walk up behind him.

Spock's calm attitude seemed to crawl further under Lucifer's skin and he scowled irritably. Quick as a snake, he lashed out with a foot and there was the sick crack of an arm breaking. Spock whitened around the lips but absorbed the blow with composure. Lucifer huffed in exasperation. "Like I said, no fun." A thought occurred to him. "Not unless I find your missing captain."

Spock calmed his irrationally emotional spike of anger and tried to keep his face as still as stone but Lucifer had been watching him like a hawk. "Ah, there we go," he purred. "If I squash Jim Kirk like the bug he is, you'll become all sorts of fun. Unravel, as it were. And a shuttle just escaped over to the space station. Probably going to rescue poor Dean from Alistair." The blond man pushed himself to his feet and moved over to the door, ignoring the silently infuriated Vulcan. "I'll just have to make use of this ship's excellent weapons. Do it myself, of course. It seems that my remote devices have been failing me lately and we just can't have that now can we?"

* * *

Dean scanned his surroundings warily, wrinkling his nose at the stench. Most Romulan ships were dark and hot, sure, but they were usually clean, dry and generally ship-shape. This place looked like something out of a horror movie. Hydraulics rattled and clanked, condensation dripped down the walls and suspicious stains littered the floor.

"Welcome to my lair," Alistair's voice crackled from a speaker and Dean sneered.

Lair?

Really?

Alistair had to be a douche. Only douches said things like "Welcome to my lair." All he had been missing was the Count Dracula-ish accent.

At any rate, Dean decided not to loiter about. If he got caught by a Count Dracula wannabe, Sam would never let him forget it. The thought of Sam woke up the spike of guilt lodged in his heart and Dean had to shoo away the morose "if Sam ever speaks to me again" that followed the initial, unintentional mention of his brother.

He made it about ten feet down the hallway before the floor opened up under him and he dropped silently into darkness, too startled to shout.

* * *

_Impala_

"Holy shit," John breathed aloud from the captain's seat of a Romulan warbird. He hadn't quite believed the two evil computer overlords cackling to each other in the corner when they said they'd hacked and subdued a brand new Romulan warbird without firing a single shot. "How illegal is it to hack a ship like that?"

"Technically," Ash said with a grin, "it's not illegal because it's supposed to be impossible. We are just that good." He held out a fist to Chekov, who bumped it enthusiastically from his temporary science station.

John was torn between reprimanding the budding masterminds and congratulating them on a job well done. Then Chekov chirped up "Ve should become vorld-class criminals! Sulu and Castiel can be our minions!" and John decided he needed to get the captains back pronto if only to keep Chekov and Ash from taking over the galaxy.

While he was at it, he mused, he'd better add Jo to that list of potential galaxy masters – the girl and her brute squad had cleared the entire ship in less than thirty minutes. She was still organizing her men for one last sweep through the engineering deck, grinning madly through a mask of Romulan blood as she barked orders in a tone of voice that made John's drill-sergeant heart all warm and fuzzy.

"Mr. Ash," John yanked the bridge crew back into line. "Find me the _Enterprise_'s ion trail and Mr. Sulu, I want to be following it at this bucket's top speed."

Sulu nodded soberly, scowling at the unfamiliar controls. Castiel was seated on the floor, flipping through the Romulan version of a PADD with his forehead wrinkled up like a little pug dog's. "I believe the throttle is to your right," he relayed and Sulu pushed the appropriate lever.

The warbird shuddered to a stop. "Incorrect," Castiel muttered under his breath in exasperation. "Perhaps you should try pulling it?"

Sulu obediently pulled and the ship moved forward sluggishly.

"The parking brake?" John suggested, tongue in cheek and Sulu shot him a border-line insubordinate glare, smacking a glowing red button with force.

The warbird leaped forward, wobbling from side to side as Sulu cursed the Romulan layout and Castiel frantically flipped through the PADD's screen. He called out a string of commands and Sulu coaxed the ship to something approaching a level forward motion. "I think we have it," Sulu finally exhaled in relief as Castiel stopped mumbling like a madman and settled down to take logical, thorough notes.

"Ve have them," Chekov reported almost savagely from where he was cursing in Russian and probably re-writing the Romulan computing system into sensible Standard binary. "Projected ETA is two hours, tventy vone minutes."

Two hours. John didn't want to think about what could happen in that stretch of time.

* * *

_Alistair_

Kirk stepped off the shuttle and dashed towards the personnel door in the wall of the Romulan space station. No point in getting this far only to get caught in the stupidest of places. Slipping into the corridors, he gagged on the smell of feces, blood and rot, tainted with the metallic tang of a respiration system that hadn't been cleaned in years. Great. He'd walked into a charnel house with a madman as the caretaker.

"Looking for Dean?" a voice asked gleefully over the comm system and Kirk scowled. "You should know that my newest toy is waiting for you with me. We've already become good friends. You should join us. Oh and just so you know, he made it ten feet down the corridor. I give you twelve. See if you can't beat that?" Alistair's cackle rang in Kirk's ears as he crouched down to survey the hallway carefully.

If Dean had been captured in ten feet, Kirk would need every single cell of concentration and insight he possessed.

The crack.

There was a crack.

The floor was caked in things Kirk would rather not think about but there was a crack in the grime that didn't jive. The crack ran the width of the hallway. Kirk could picture his friend barrelling through the door of the transporter room, ready to take on the world's enemies with his bare hands and immediately falling into the booby trap.

Kirk shook himself out of his thoughts and backed up, preparing to jump. He had no way of knowing how long the trap was or how far he'd have to leap but sitting around puzzling the problem did him no good. If worst came to worst, clearly he'd survive the fall because Dean did. Alistair wanted to kill them himself after all.

Kirk jumped.

He landed and the floor didn't fall out from under him. He then realized how very, very screwed he was because clearly no one else had made it past the first booby trap and if there was one pit, there was bound to be others.

Sticking his foot out and smacking the edge of his boot off the floor, Kirk hoped that would be enough to set off the pit mechanisms.

Really, he didn't know what was worse – getting caught sooner or later. Sooner would result in no control over the circumstances of capture but would allow him to check on Dean immediately. Later meant that Kirk was bound to run across a clear corridor sooner or later because Alistair couldn't be falling into his own pits all the time and Kirk could reassess the situation from there, maybe even pull a fast one on their new captor. Still, even in the best case scenario there was no surefire way for him to hide from Alistair on this space station and he was absolutely sure Alistair knew that.

He heard a buzzing sound, an ominous metallic humming and the comm closest to him chirped "Run, Captain Kirk, or be caught and nibbled on by my pets."

Kirk took the sadist at his word, forgot the trap doors and booked it down the hall like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

* * *

_Enterprise_

Sam groggily hauled himself out of a pain-hazed doze when the door to his cell snapped off. "Hey Sammy. Guess what? You just came home. Wanna watch?"

"No," Sam slurred, too tired to engage in the game.

"Aw, that's too bad. You're coming anyway." Lucifer yanked him up by his snapped left arm, causing black dots of pain to dance on Sam's vision. He swallowed the pathetic whimper and managed to prop himself up on his unharmed left leg, trying futilely to ignore the pulsing, encompassing pain from his right knee cap.

"Spock's waiting and I've told him if he tries anything funny I'll put a nice little nick in your carotid artery, watch the blood spurt all over the walls in pretty designs. Understood?"

Sam bobbed his head breathlessly. Lucifer mercilessly dragged him forward and Sam hobbled forward painfully. "Come _on_ Sam. You're going to miss the show and it's a doozy. You see, the illustrious Enterprise, complete with her entire crew, is going to take revenge on the Federation for leaving her good friends to die in Romulan space. I'm really quite proud of my holographic simulations, you know. Then Alistair's going to take Dean and Jim to hand over to the Romulan ruling parties. I do hope they're alive when he does." Lucifer smiled cruelly. "You see if there's one thing the Romulans do well, it's torture and Alistair's an enthusiastic expert even among his own people. To top it off, the Romulans just aren't fans of star ship captains who reveal the old farts as bumbling idiots."

* * *

_Impala (Romulan ver.)_

"No _Enterprise_. Just a dinky space station on its last legs," John growled in exasperation.

"Jim's on that station," McCoy blurted, shoving his PADD at the acting-captain. "I had him tagged." Just as he finished speaking, Ellen barrelled onto the bridge.

"Dean's on that station," she panted, shaking a PADD. "Copied McCoy, tagged Dean after the last crazy mission."

John clenched the arms of his chair in anticipatory frustration. "Where's Sam and Spock?"

"I do not know Commander, but the _Enterprise_'s ion trail leads back tovards Federation space," Chekov reported.

They waited as the captain thought furiously. "How many life signs on that station?" he demanded abruptly.

"Three, Commander." Ash's voice was all business.

"Doctor McCoy, Cupcake and half of Jo's squad will take a shuttle and rescue the captains. Once you have them in your custody, take the shuttle back to the _Impala_ and book it for the Federation," John ordered, brain whipping along at speeds it hadn't used in decades. "The _Enterprise _is headed back to Federation space and you can be damn sure she's not in Sam or Spock's hands. Letting the flagship run around shooting at random would be a catastrophe. The rest of us will continue to track down the _Enterprise_."

"Commander," Sulu spoke up. "Permission to accompany the away team."

John glanced at the tough pilot, who already had a hand laid on the hilt of his collapsing katana. "Granted."

"Commander," Scotty barked from the crackling comm system.

"Go. You might be needed if the shuttle gets into trouble or if the _Impala_ gives you trouble." John rubbed his forehead as he prayed he was doing the right thing.

"Ser." Chekov piped up. John was going to refuse but he looked up and connected with a pair of wide, pleading eyes.

The acting captain didn't know of the list slowly accumulating between the _Enterprise _and _Impala_. It was a secret list, perpetrated by the doctors who needed warning against the deadly threat of puppy-dog eyes. Commander Sam Winchester and Ensign Pavel Chekov topped the list as number one and two offenders, respectively.

All John knew was that Chekov's great big teary eyes shimmered bravely and suddenly he was saying yes instead of no like planned.

The captain-rescuing team marched off the bridge a minute later. "Good job," Sulu complimented in a whisper, trying to ignore the tension-wracked back of the _Enterprise_'s CMO. McCoy had gone from everyday grump to downright surly as his two command compatriots remained missing. Sulu pitied the poor Romulan bastard who crossed the stormy physician.

"Damn straight," Chekov growled, tears conspicuously missing and eyes narrowed to concentrated slits. "A man of my stature uses every adwantage he has. You vill need my hacking skills. And I hev been training vith Commander Spock." Nimble fingers ran over his multiple phasers with smoothly confident grace and Sulu reflected that perhaps hanging out with the captains hadn't actually been a good thing for his naïve friend. Pavel Chekov was turning into a secret terror.

"Come. Ve have keptins to rescue."

Or maybe it was the best thing possible. Sulu grinned despite the circumstances and chased after his console-partner.


	10. Wearing Thin

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

_Enterprise_

Lucifer loved it when his playmates hated him. He liked to imagine it left a tangible aroma in the air, a tension that he practically fed off as he tugged strings and ruined lives.

Right now, both Sammy and Spock hated him a _lot_. He preferred to think of it as denied love. He was a Renaissance man, someone who was enlightened enough to allow his darker desires to run free, unfettered. Someday everyone would understand how very liberating it could be.

He expected Sam and Spock would come around eventually, even if only in death.

Lucifer grinned widely at his captive audience. They were seated on opposite ends of the bridge, securely tied to the bridge railing as holographic _Enterprise_ crew members bustled around them, flipping switches. Chekov sat at his navigation console, Kirk swivelled back and forth in his chair, Uhura chattered into the communications headset and Scotty's Scottish voice burbled from the speakers occasionally. "Pretty cool, isn't it?" Lucifer drawled, very proud of himself. The technology was still a little glitchy but he didn't think Starfleet would have the time to look close, especially when the _Enterprise_ would soon be wreaking unholy havoc on her beloved Federation.

The thought gave him the most delicious shivers. He laughed and watched Sam Winchester flinch at the harsh sound.

Sam was starting to unravel and Spock was simmering.

Lucifer mentally took back his previous conclusion about boring Vulcans. Right now he wasn't sure who would be more fun. It was like choosing between decadent chocolate and fine wine.

Hopefully he'd get both.

In the meantime, he hummed happily as he poked and prodded at the _Enterprise_'s vulnerable computer, rewriting formerly harmless programs into instruments of fire and destruction. The biggest bang would be the warp cores. Earth would get one. Probably Romulus. The new Vulcan colony, for sure and whoever else pissed him off. The planets would be rendered instantly inhabitable, millions screaming for a bare instant in their death throes before everything fell permanently silent.

Lucifer stripped a wire to the jaunty tune of Yankee Doodle. Of course the sensors had to be tuned to catch everything in slow motion. After all, these would be his finest moments and it would be such a shame if he didn't immortalize them on video.

Three hours and counting. Three hours to the end of the world.

Lucifer stopped humming and started whistling.

* * *

_Romulan Shuttle_

"All right, listen up," Cupcake ordered briskly. He was trying not to step on Dr. McCoy's toes as the doctor was technically the most senior officer on the expedition. At the same time, Cupcake recognized that Dr. McCoy didn't exactly dabble in planning away mission ops. Not that Cupcake thought he couldn't do it. But it was the security officer's job and it looked like the CMO understood that, silently sitting back with a neutral face.

The team sat up and listened attentively as Cupcake laid out the plan. It was straightforward and simple to counteract what was going to undoubtedly be very complicated countermeasures. Sulu had sharp eyes and solid danger skills – he had point with Cupcake. McCoy was set as middleman – the CMO might hesitate to shoot first but he was damn hard to rattle even under the heaviest fire. Chekov (whom Cupcake was beginning to privately think of as the crazy Russian) was settled beside McCoy, who would keep the kid on a sensible leash. Scotty would cover the back as the independent, pragmatic rear guard.

And the _Impala_'s security team, solid and seasoned, filled out the rest of the formation. Cupcake had every faith in them, in the men following him. It was himself he was doubting. He tried to convince himself it was just pre-mission jitters, the type everyone except maybe Captain Kirk and Commander Spock suffered from.

A little niggling voice at the back of his head said he was lying to himself. He was in charge of the very impossible mission to save two captains, both of whom were wholly capable of pulling themselves out of situations that had killed far bigger and more indestructible men.

The shuttle scuttled across space without any problems, which had Cupcake frowning. He hoped the captor holding the captains was busy for the right reasons – i.e. Kirk or Winchester was merrily handing the bastard his ass on a shiny silver platter.

* * *

_Alistair_

Alistair scowled at the monitor. Captain James Kirk lived up to his rather impossibly impressive reputation. It had taken the clever human exactly thirty seven seconds to wire up an electric net capable of zapping the lethal poison drones chasing him. Then he had done something to the cameras Alistair still couldn't undo and he was currently staring at disturbingly blank screens as his computers ran diagnostic after diagnostic.

This wasn't his area of expertise. Certainly, he enjoyed watching prey run around like miserable, mindless rats in a pre-determined trap but his true passion was the personal touch, the closeness that allowed for him to practice his artistry. Like with Captain Dean Winchester. The thought of the brash man brought a thin touch of smile to Alistair's lips.

He was going to be Alistair's greatest piece.

As soon as Alistair managed to corner Jim Kirk. Kirk wouldn't be as beautiful when he was done, if only because Kirk had no family to twist him into a caricature of himself. But he would do for the experimental first subject.

Alistair scowled and punched a new string of code into the computer, smirking as the cameras flickered back on reluctantly. He decided to end this now. Alistair didn't like using the electricity grid but at this point, it seemed to be his only option.

He watched with deflated interest as Kirk jumped, shook and collapsed to the ground, jittering as electricity crackled through the entire station. Alistair shook his head. The only room in the station that wouldn't get zapped was the one Alistair as currently sitting in. The beauty of electricity was that by the time you noticed, it was already too late.

Sure enough, Kirk dropped like a stone and Alistair spun out of his chair.

Time to go to work.

Alistair allowed himself the liberty of gleefully rubbing his hands together. He couldn't wait.

* * *

Dean stared blearily up at the dingy ceiling. Clearly Alistair didn't care about making his guests comfortable. He also wasn't a fan of modern innovation – no easily shorted out force fields or laser containment. Dean was strapped down to a steel rack, broad flexible plastic cuffs holding his ankles and wrists down. Steel would have been a cinch to break out of, he cursed bitterly as his head pounded and various new bruises made themselves known. Sure, he would have lost some skin and probably dislocated a thumb, but he'd be loose. The plasti-stretch clung to his skin like a lover and he glared at the strong buckles holding the plastic together.

Blood and other bodily fluids were abundant in this room, probably left to stain the walls because Alistair liked it that way. Shelves and hooks hung from the walls, littered with assorted sharp implements, ropes, chains and several things that Dean couldn't even being to identify but looked suitably cruel and life-threatening.

Dean's stomach clenched in self-loathing and a very small dose of fear. He'd been an idiot and probably deserved to be strapped to the table for underestimating Alistair, for running into the station like a hero. His friends were in trouble and he had the stupidity to get himself caught by a sociopath who wanted to turn him into a Frankenstein or something equally horrific.

The door slid open and Dean craned his head up.

Alistair dragged a very limp Jim Kirk into the room by his thick blond hair. "I brought a playmate," Alistair grinned. "You can watch. I imagine you'll take comfort from knowing the process. He's just the guinea pig, after all. Unfortunately," Alistair shook his head sadly, "you won't be able to appreciate it in all its glory. I do have to start on you as soon as the first stage is finished on Jim here and I'm afraid it's rather painful."

Alistair's mad grin widened. "And of course I won't wait for your buddy here to wake up. He's been rather clever for a human and I don't need to chase him down again. It's so pedestrian." The Romulan hummed thoughtfully as he surveyed his inventory of torture. With smooth, practiced motions, he selected a pair of steel shackles and snapped them around Kirk's wrists.

It was effortless for him to lift a dead-weight Kirk onto a hook via those shackles, leaving the _Enterprise_ captain to dangle helplessly, his feet barely touching the ground. Dean's body raced with adrenaline and he howled curses at his captor, spitting defiance, death and pure vitriol until Alistair laughed joyfully and Kirk groaned, slowly returning to the land of the living.

"Wakey-wakey," Alistair crooned and Kirk jolted awake. To Dean's immense satisfaction, Kirk tensed his entire body in a flash and a tough Starfleet boot crashed into Alistair's jaw like a freight train.

Still, it was a fruitless gesture and both captains knew it. Kirk slumped in his shackles, boots dancing about on their toes in an attempt to take the weight of his wrists. Dean resumed jerking on his restraints as Alistair picked himself up off the floor, blood-red rage in his squinty dark eyes. "There's no way we can talk about this?" Kirk joked feebly. Alistair picked up a cruel cat of nine tails whip, stained glass tinkling musically as the lashes quivered in Alistair's shaking hand. "I guess not."

He couldn't make up his mind to relax and try to block it out or tense up as was instinct. As he found out, it didn't matter much anyway. After the third strike, all Jim Kirk knew was pain.

* * *

Cupcake slammed a fist down on the shuttle door to keep McCoy from dashing out into the Romulan ship and the doctor glared at him. "That's _Enterprise_'s shuttle!"

"It is," Cupcake said thoughtfully. "Chekov?"

"No sign of tampering, ser, on the shuttle or the bay around us. It is secure and safe to proceed forward."

Cupcake nodded. "Good. Let's move. Keep your eyes open."

The team spilled into the bay and towards the hallway. Sulu made it a bare ten feet down the hallway and threw up the signal for a halt. Confused but trusting the sharp-eyed pilot, the team froze. "There's something wrong here," Sulu muttered almost to himself. "The crack in the floor and the footprints – they're the same size as the captain's. He jumped about four feet across that patch of floor. Pavel?"

Chekov had already pulled a panel out of the wall, his personal PADD hooked into various wires and terminals as Scotty hovered over his shoulder, occasionally pitching in advice. "Oh, wery tricky," Chekov complimented dryly. "Lots of traps, lots of nasty things. I vill have the entire system shut down in five minutes. Until then, it is not safe to move forward."

McCoy had the PADD tracking the captains, compulsively checking on the limited stats available every thirty seconds. "Commander," he began calmly, but raw fear hedged further into every syllable. "There's something happening to Jim."

"Faster!" Cupcake ordered and Chekov cursed colourfully before yanking his PADD out of the wall.

"Go!"

Sulu led the charge as McCoy bellowed instructions in a roar designed to cut through the hubbub of an _Enterprise_ medical crisis. Boots thundered down the passages and the security team easily cast wide phaser beams at the sluggish flying droids, most of them already singed by electricity of some sort.

"This door," McCoy finally growled, banging a fist off the stained metal.

Chekov didn't wait for an order, popping the door plate off and short-circuiting wires.

The door slid open and for the first time, McCoy took charge, elbowing everyone else out of the way with the steely determination of a doctor. Privately, Cupcake was glad the CMO was so determined to be first. He could admit he was afraid of what he would find in the chamber of horrors.

"Get in here!" McCoy bellowed and the rest of the team tumbled into the room, security remaining at the door.

A pitiful human figure barely recognizable as Jim Kirk under the blood smeared and dripping from his skin hung from the ceiling, body still swaying gently, breathing laboured and intermittent at best. Someone had beaten the shit out of the proud _Enterprise_ captain, taken a whip to him and then methodically slashed and sliced at crucial points of tendon and muscle until bone gleamed beneath insulted red.

In the small corner of McCoy's mind that wasn't screaming rage and fear, he noted that someone had taken care to administer a coagulant as well as an irritating agent, ensuring that Jim didn't bleed out in seconds on top of being in excruciating pain.

The bloodstained torture rack was empty, cuffs flapping loose as Kirk groaned softly, clinging to a tiny thread of consciousness.

"Bastards," Sulu cursed, darting forward to wrap his arms around his captain's legs, taking the pressure of his arms. Chekov snagged a big security beef and promptly clambered up onto the man's thick shoulders to pick the lock. There was a buzz and the nimble Russian yelped, shaking a hand as the shackles fell open. Sulu and Scotty caught their captain with a grunt as McCoy went to work immediately. Trusting Sulu and McCoy to look after the captain, Cupcake wheeled on a slightly dazed Chekov.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"Electricity," the ensign mumbled. "Programmed the cuffs to hev a zap."

"McCoy, make sure the kid isn't going to fall over." When the CMO didn't budge from the comatose captain, Cupcake snapped, "Now!" His stomach may be tied in knots over Kirk but if Chekov conked out because of too much nastiness, they'd be very screwed. Sulu had been taking hacking lessons from the Russian but Chekov was their wizard.

To his credit, McCoy was quick but thorough. "Electricity. He's fine. Have him sit down for a minute. Now don't bother me."

Cupcake shrugged off the brusqueness and swept the room with a frown. "Where's Winchester?"

The security teams shook their heads as Scotty tweaked with the PADD McCoy had been carrying. "Someone's moving him off the station right now," the Scot snapped shortly, dispensing with cluttered formality.

"Scott, take four men and go. Sulu, I want you with them. Move!" Scott could command a security team as well as any and Cupcake was the only man big enough to carry the captain easily although he had no doubt McCoy would have found a way if necessary. On top of that, Sulu would keep them out of any last-minute traps.

Cupcake hoped they would make it in time.

Hell, he just hoped Winchester was still in one piece and breathing, he thought bleakly as he surveyed the mess that was his captain.

* * *

Montgomery Scott pounded through the space station looking very much like the berserker Scottish warrior he usually buried under the persona of an eccentric, amiable starship engineer. Sulu matched him stride for stride, face cold and hard as stone, katana already at the ready. "Jump," the pilot ordered shortly. The team did as ordered, lasers lashing out at ankle level a heartbeat later.

They made it all the way down to the shuttle bay, following Winchester's chip beacon and spotted a shuttle's doors sliding shut, saw a pale, blood-spattered Dean Winchster slumped against a shuttle wall and a dark figure sitting in the pilot's seat. "Ach, nae ye don't," Scott growled, pausing to beat the Romulan computing console into doing what he wanted. Sulu kept dashing forward as the shuttle door as alarms began to whoop and the shuttle bay shut down.

The shuttle rose into the cramped space of the bay and Scott cursed as he realized the thing was still armed. He had no way of shutting the damned thing down remotely and whoever held Dean Winchester captive could shoot the entire rescue team like fish in a barrel. Even though one of Jo's more kamikaze idiots carried a phaser cannon, there was no way of taking out the shuttle without potentially harming Captain Winchester.

So it was with admiring surprise that Scott watched Sulu scramble up the side of a grounded shuttle and bounce onto the landing skid of the enemy ship like a mad ninja. The pilot then proceeded to fiddle with something on the underside of the shuttle and pop the door open. With a disbelieving laugh, Scott and the team watched Sulu swing up into the shuttle. A few seconds later, it settled back to the ground with a complaining whine.

Sulu pitched the skinny Romulan out onto the hard bay floor without professionalism or kindness. "Secure him before I kill him," the pilot requested without emotion, still managing to convey the impression that he was a hair's breadth away from premeditated murder. Then he vanished back into the shuttle and Scott braced himself for more horrors.

He did not want to have to explain to Bobby that he, Montgomery Scott, had lost the captain Bobby Singer considered a son.

* * *

_Impala (Romulan ver.)_

"Cas, doesn't this bucket of bolts go any faster?" John demanded irritably, drumming restless fingers on his chair arm.

The pilot shrugged and poked inquisitively at a few buttons. "I do not know. We could always take the safeties off."

John winced. He wasn't that desperate. Not yet, anyway. He knew Dean trusted Castiel, Ash and Sam to fly the_ Impala _without safeties but this was a Romulan ship, a new one at that and Sam was conspicuously missing.

That still didn't change the fact that he was gaining on the _Enterprise_ at a torturously slow rate. As it stood, the _Enterprise_ was going to be hovering in Federation space for seventeen minutes before the Romulan ship caught up.

Assuming of course that they weren't blasted into bits just on principle for a) flying a Romulan ship or b) being Starfleet fugitives.

With nothing else to do but wait, John took the time to wonder how this was his life.

* * *

_Enterprise_

If the captain were present to describe Spock's state of mind at the moment, he might have gone so far as to say the Vulcan was praying.

Praying Sam Winchester, his _Impala_ equivalent in practically everything except copper-based blood, was still conscious enough to help Spock take the ship back.

Spock knew it was a gamble, knew that most Vulcans would consider him mentally unstable for relying on a semi-conscious human but something had to be done and he could not expect assistance from outside the ship.

Sam's head lolled on his neck as Spock tapped a finger gently against the floor. Dark hazel eyes swivelled about woozily as Spock stared intensely, knowing that Lucifer was far too busy giggling over his asinine plans to notice Spock's subtle movements.

Then Sam spotted the code. Morse code. Spock was keeping it simple and if anyone asked why he didn't use anything more imaginative later, Spock would offer to personally allow them the pleasure of his concussion and situation to allow them the educational experience in preparation for a similar position at a later juncture.

He yanked his train of thought back into line with rigid discipline, musing that as expected, concussions had a negative affect on his ability to think concisely and clearly. Still, Spock knew he was in better shape than a battered, emotionally wounded Sam.

Tap tap tap.

Sam slowly pulled his head up to rest against the post behind him and his unbroken hand tapped back in return.

Spock almost allowed his relief to break through. Sam was still coherent. _Now what_ the human asked silently. _Knock him out_, Spock tapped back.

Sam didn't need a finger to express his incredulity.

_Sleeping gas_._ Untripped prank planned next mission. Console behind you under keyboard._

Sam craned his head around gingerly, spotting the tiny spray capsule taped under Spock's science station console. When they got out of this, he realized with a thread of humour, he absolutely had to pester the story behind the prank out of Spock. Judging from the set up, all he had to do was bump the little thing.

His unbroken leg wasn't close enough. He'd have to convince his broken knee that it really did want to lift up enough to break the gas out into the open. _How long_ he silently asked Spock.

_Four hours. Sealed bridge ventilation systems while you were out._

Oh great, Sam cursed. So the bridge wasn't getting any new air. It was possible that they'd die in here when unconscious, without ever knowing they passed from the realm of the living.

Sam's eyes drifted from the bent-over figure of Lucifer to Spock, who shrugged.

No other choice.

Sam gritted his teeth and slammed the tip of his boot up to the console. He didn't have time to hear the little bulb break because his knee was driving him back into the darkened realm of unconsciousness.

Spock watched Sam slump to the floor and swallowed another heart-burning bubble of anger. How much more would his friend have to suffer, he wondered as he began to feel light-headed.

Then, to his satisfaction, Spock watched Lucifer's head snap up. Their captor took a few wobbly steps, glaring at Spock. The _Enterprise_'s first officer wondered if the half-Romulan would manage to cross the room and kill him before the gas took effect.

But Lucifer wavered as his eyes rolled back in his head. Spock's anger clenched into a small twinge of satisfaction. Naturally, he knew his gasses and when Chekov asked for a highly effective, harmless gas, Spock had obliged (the rare book of Vulcan poetry had helped. Not that it was a bribe. Chekov explained the logic of purchasing and receiving very carefully. Spock had been impressed). The Russian had asked him for help with the prank, saying he just wanted to knock everyone out for a minute. With the highly efficient ventilation systems, the little bubble of gas should have cycled out in less than that.

But once the bridge was sealed like a coffin, the gas would circle around in its limited confines, the final defence of the Federation possible because of a childish prank between an ensign and his best friend.

Spock postulated that the conclusion was not as negative as it could have been. They had just bought the Federation a few more hours. Additionally, he now had empirical evidence indicating that 'pranks' were not, as the Vulcans had decided upon first contacting humans, a waste of intellect.

A faint smile curved his lips as his consciousness sank into oblivion.


	11. Lost and Found

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

_Starfleet Command_

Admiral Pike felt as if he had aged fifty years or so in the past two months. First the _Impala_, then the _Enterprise, _snatched from his reach, entangled in a mess Pike couldn't sort out. IO wasn't sharing their Romulan intelligence so Pike had to rely on information gleaned from traders. Said information was little more than rumour. They said the _Impala_ was a ghost, disappeared. Or that she was destroyed, floating dead in space. Or that she was dashing about Romulan space, playing at Robin Hood.

And _Enterprise – _Pike shook his head. The flagship had always been a bit of a myth to anyone outside of Starfleet. But now there were fantastic rumours of invisibility, of an _Enterprise_ unconquerable, in which phasers passed straight through her hull and her mad captain, leaving both unharmed.

God only knew the truth, Pike mused. The Atlantis cloak probably had something to do with half the rumours but Pike still didn't know what Kirk had planned. There was no word of the _Impala_ and her crew being rescued. Pike shuddered to think what Kirk was capable of if his friends were dead. He had the _Enterprise_, a skeleton crew capable of making her a terror and no Starfleet to keep him in check.

Pike rubbed his forehead wearily. It didn't matter if Kirk comported himself with all the decorum the admirals had failed to drill into the captain's thick skull. The Federation was split – the masses were supporting their loyal hero and the people in power were steaming with rage over the insolent pup's flagrant disregard for command. If Kirk came home now even with Winchester in tow, Starfleet had enough people in high enough places to crucify the kid for dereliction of duty. Pike was prepared to go down with the crew of the _Enterprise_ for doing what he himself had wanted to do but there would be no escape. Already the Romulans were screaming for Kirk's head – the intrepid captain had waltzed right into the heart of Romulan space and violated a top-secret facility. Of course, the Romulans weren't saying what was in said top-secret facility and refused to speculate on why Kirk would do something so bone-headed.

While Kirk was many things, stupid was definitely not one of them. If he broke into a Romulan lab, there had been a damned good reason. Pike hadn't given up on getting out of this scrape but he needed something to hold over the Romulans' heads. The reason Kirk broke into that lab would be a good start. If Pike could get proof that the Romulans were violating interplanetary law or had known where the _Impala_ was being held, Pike could pull off a miracle.

He stared at his PADD. Too bad he didn't have that information. Pike's sphere of influence didn't reach as far as Romulan space, mostly because he had been hugely busy straightening out the mess the _Narada _had made of Starfleet chain of command. Pike cursed again and tossed the PADD on the desk with no small force, causing his secretary to raise her eyebrows. Misaki tapped on the clear glass door and Pike waved her in irritably.

"Sir, there's a gentleman here to see you."

Pike snorted, already immersed in shipping manifests and waved a dismissive hand. "I'm indisposed."

Misaki stood her ground. "Sir, I think you'll want to see him."

Pike's head snapped up and she met his eyes solidly. "Fine. Where is he?"

"Not here," she said quietly and Pike's interest started to pique.

"All right," and he set down the boring manifests. Stepping out onto the street, his experienced eyes spotted the contact immediately. Slouched in the darkest corner of a bright street, the disreputable man in a long brown leather coat was scanning the area around him with sharp, experienced eyes.

"Admiral Pike?" the man asked, a certain disdain for authority lacing his voice.

"That's me," Pike replied, studying the man carefully.

"Word on the street is you're looking to help two mutual friends of ours out of a pinch."

Pike nodded towards a little café beside his office. He was a regular there for two main reasons: the coffee was excellent and more importantly, the staff was discreet. With a raised eyebrow, his rakish companion plunked himself into the small chair placed beside a rather delicate looking table. Shrugging, Pike motioned for two black coffees. They arrived promptly in a pair of thick china mugs and Pike grinned as the man nodded in satisfaction after one long sip.

"So," Pike prompted.

The man squinted at the sun philosophically. "You should know, I hate bureaucracy."

Pike sat silently. Mostly, he agreed. He viewed it as a necessary evil. Bureaucracy kept the economy regulated which allowed Starfleet the liquid wealth it needed to function.

"But it seems this world hadn't quite fallen to corruption just yet and our friends are decent-like. Brought you proof that the Romulans knew about the _Impala_'s capture and where she was being held." A computer chip tinkled on the cheap metal table-top. "Probably not enough to pull Jimbo out of the fire but – "

Pike's wild hopes had just gained a little traction. He interrupted with faint excitement beginning to thread through his voice. "But it sure as hell will make the Romulans damned uncomfortable. Starfleet will like that better than being forced into condemning two of their best captains to death."

The man studied Pike thoroughly. "You'll see to it that things end right?"

"I wish I could promise they will," Pike growled, "but at the very least you can damn well be sure I'll ruin the Romulans and my career trying."

The man grinned suddenly. "Never met an admiral I liked," he commented as he slurped back the rest of his coffee, "but I think you're the first. Thanks for the coffee. Good luck."

Pike watched his brown coat until it turned a corner and moved out of sight.

Time to start raising hell. After all, the stage had to be set for when Kirk and Winchester came roaring back.

* * *

_Impala (Romulan ver.)_

They almost tripped over the _Enterprise_. The big flagship was sitting dead in space, ominously quiet. "Ash?" John asked.

The navigator punched at unfamiliar buttons and cursed. "Romulan sensors are absolute shit," he complained. "There are life signs on the bridge but other than that, I've got nothing. No idea whether they're Romulan or human. Not even a decent estimate on how many bodies we have."

"Jo, get me a boarding party. Ash, keep an eye out for Starfleet ships. I don't want to get blasted to bits while they protect an enemy-occupied ship. Keep trying to figure out how this bucket fights, Cas. We might need it. Bobby?" John asked over the crackly communication system.

"_What?"_ the engineer demanded brusquely.

"You have the conn. Get your cantankerous ass up here." John grinned at the blistering harangue that followed this gem of news. Bobby was a damned good commander when forced to it and he would keep the understandably nervous Ash and Castiel on an even keel as they struggled with the unfamiliar ship.

"_Where the hell do you think you're going?"_ Bobby finally demanded.

"Jo's good but if we run into that bastard Lucifer she'll need steadying." The _Impala_ crew had filled their rescuers in and while John had every confidence in Jo's ability, he wanted to make sure someone with experience was there to make sure her first encounter with undiluted evil ended as it should. On top of that, Dean or Sam could be on the ship and John would not sit idly by from the safety of their conquered ship while Dean's crew extracted them.

Of course, Bobby thought otherwise and told him so. Luckily Jim had left John in command, which meant he could blithely ignore his old friend and do as he willed.

The _Enterprise_ was an eerie place to wander, Jo decided absently as she followed John through the flagship's corridors. Usually the ship was bustling with people and life, friendly and approachable. Working with the _Enterprise_ or even just visiting was a pleasure.

But now there was only the faint buzz of her engines at rest, lights flickering. Sabotage, one of the security officers with a talent for electronics said. Someone had done a doozy on the _Enterprise_'s internal systems. No signs of violence, just darkened corridors and the occasional complaining bleep of an ignored task that needed a person to initiate the rest of its protocol.

"I don't like it," John admitted to Jo in a low voice. Something on the ship had the hair on the back of his neck standing up, so he pushed the party faster towards the bridge. When they arrived, the doors were locked shut.

"Deadbolted," the security officer commented, trying vainly to hotwire the door open. "Someone doesn't want to let us in."

Or something else out, John replied mentally and knew Jo was thinking the same thing but said nothing until the young ensign cursed the computer and Commander Spock in the same breath. "Sorry sir, Commander Spock's personal code locked the door and there's no cracking it unless you're Ensign Chekov, Lieutenant-Commander Ash or Commander Winchester."

Jo frowned for a second and crooked a finger at the portable phaser cannon carried by her biggest lieutenant. "That should do it. When in doubt, knock," she asserted with wry humour. It seemed to be good advice. Half a dozen shots from the big gun blew a smoking hole in the _Enterprise_'s bridge door.

John had time to shout "Gas!" before everyone was coughing and wheezing as the _Enterprise_'s ventilation system kicked into high gear, sucking up the gas. John was the first man into the bridge, pouncing on the unfamiliar shape of a half-Romulan who had to be Lucifer. With ruthlessness uncharacteristic of Starfleet, John snatched the unconscious man up by his hair and slammed his head into the floor just to make sure he wouldn't make trouble.

"John," Jo cried and the big commander wheeled.

His heart caught in his throat.

His Sammy, the little boy whom he had abandoned as a child and only recently rediscovered, was slumped against the floor, knee and arm at awkward angles, angry bruises covering his face. "Get Ellen," John managed to bark, hearing the orders come from his mouth like someone else was giving them.

Spock wasn't in much better shape and gas still lingered in the bridge. "Get them out of here and clear this bridge," John croaked, knowing time was of the essence. "Pull crew from the Romulan warbird onto the _Enterprise_. I want this ship fully staffed and ready for battle in thirty minutes. _Move!_"

Crew scattered before the big commander's roar, whose fear and guilt had been translated into anger. John could trust Ellen, would trust Ellen. She would look after Sam and John would make sure that his boy was safe from external threats. He glanced down at his clenched fist, still fisted in the blond hair of the man who had tormented his son.

It would be so easy. So very violently easy to crush the fragile head like an eggshell. God knew where Dean was and this man had caused untold mental and physical anguish.

He lost track of how long he stood there, silently contemplating execution.

"Not worth it."

A voice broke into his reverie.

"You don't know that," John replied slowly. "How could you, you don't have sons."

"Bullshit. I've spent more time raising your sons than you have. Killing him now would just ease your own damned conscience until it realized you'd made yourself into a murderer. I'd have to arrest you and pitch you in the brig beside him." Bobby inspected the underside of the science station. "I'll be damned. We caught up with _Enterprise_ because Kirk's senior bridge crew is a group of juvenile pranksters." He turned to his friend and commanding officer. "Give the bastard to me. If anyone has the right to know what will cause him unending pain, it's the crew of the _Impala_. Trust me, bland imprisonment will torture him worse than any death, however painful."

John stared at Bobby for a long moment. "The boys are going to need every scrap of proper procedure Pike can find if they ever want to keep their ships," Bobby persuaded, both ignoring the fact that _Impala_ crew members were trickling onto the bridge, Ash pouncing on familiar systems like a puppy on fresh liver.

Lucifer hit the floor with an undignified thump. "If he sets so much as a toe outside of his brig cell, I'll kill him," John promised in tones colder than space itself.

"I'll help you hunt him down like the mad dog he is," Bobby rejoined. Two of Jo's security officers dragged their tormentor down to the _Enterprise_'s brig without any kindness. "Boys," Bobby called after them and they paused. "Gas the cell. I don't want him conscious until after Commander Winchester's up and about."

Sam would be clearheaded, more so than his father. Bobby grumbled under his breath at the idea of relying on the younger man, tamping down the swell of pride and worry with his usual crusty grump, bellowing at a hapless engineering ensign.

* * *

Spock's head was pounding. He mused to himself that he should really visit the New Vulcan colony in the near future to re-connect with Vulcan culture as he was starting to sound positively human. But there was no other way to describe his poor brain. Between a concussion and the gas, it was sorely abused.

"Back among the living?" a familiar voice asked. Spock squinted up at the expectant face.

"Doctor Harvelle?" he croaked through a dry throat.

"Yep. Had quite the number done on your noggin but you're still in better shape than Sam." Her brow wrinkled in worry as she glanced over at the bed beside Spock's.

Sam Winchester lay white and silent under an oxygen mask, fresh skin-casts covering his leg and arm.

"Will he recover?" Spock asked, worry gnawing at his insides.

Dr. Harvelle replied reassuringly enough for Spock to discern that she was not simply trying to increase his morale.

"Who is in command of the _Enterprise_?" was Spock's next question. Upon hearing that a semi-retired security commander, even the decorated and competent John Winchester, was captaining his beloved ship, Spock immediately waged war to get out of the infirmary.

Ellen Harvelle was a formidable opponent, Spock reflected as he limped towards the bridge fifteen minutes later, arm throbbing fiercely. He had been reduced to physically brushing past her, a tactic he never employed against Dr. McCoy. He had seen Jim try it once and Dr. McCoy had promptly hit the captain with a tranquilizer strong enough to put Jim flat on his back for six hours. Whatever the methods, Spock knew had won unfairly and he knew he would pay for it later.

Ignoring that small voice of doom, he strode onto the bridge with all the dignity of the _Enterprise_'s first officer. He was heartened to spot Uhura uncharacteristically cursing the mess someone had made out of her communication system and Ash busily untangling the damage Lucifer, Jim and Spock himself had done to the _Enterprise_'s computer.

"Commander Spock!" Clearly Commander Winchester was surprised to see the Vulcan up and about.

"Commander Winchester," Spock replied calmly. "Report."

John hid a smile. The young officer was utterly convinced he was in charge and rightly so. Therefore John's report was professional, succinct and contained every scrap of necessary information so that the first officer could do his job. "Where is the _Impala_ now?" was Spock's first question.

"Hidden and waiting for the away team to find her," John replied. "They're going to need a fast ship to make an escape. We left a skeleton crew working on repairs."

Spock sank absentmindedly into the captain's chair. He could trust the away team to retrieve the captains. The true crux of the situation was this: Lucifer may be a madman but he was a highly intelligent one. He would not rely on a half-assed scheme involving the _Enterprise_ to take out the Federation. "Lieutenant Commander Uhura," he began. "Hail the _Los Angeles_."

A consummate professional, Uhura spared her boyfriend a quick eye twinkle that communicated her relief and gladness as she immediately began hailing their sister ship. Everyone on the bridge was immediately eaten up with curiosity but the commander's forbidding face kept the crew on task. John stood by quietly, happy to let the genius first officer plan out the undoubtedly sticky return to the Federation. John knew he was a damned good security officer and excellent at thinking on his feet but Commander Spock had been raised amongst the slippery, logical Vulcans. If anyone could convince Starfleet to see things their way, it would be Spock.

The first step of that process was to convince Captain Callen, a member of Starfleet still in good standing, to report all of Spock's findings and reports to Starfleet under his own name. They would therefore be investigated seriously. Captain Callen was happy to do so. He and several other captains had expressed outrage at the blithely sacrificing tactics of Starfleet. Spock knew the _Los Angeles_ captain was a bulldog when he decided to pick up a cause and if he needed extra support, Callen wouldn't hesitate to call in the maverick Captain Gibbs.

"Commander Winchester, I believe it is time for a ruse," Spock mused as the video connection between _Enterprise_ and _Los Angeles_ snapped off. John leaned forward as the Vulcan pulled up a star map. "Based on estimated travel vectors, the invading Romulan fleet," he frowned as a young navigational ensign squeaked in alarm at the sound of 'invading Romulan fleet,' "you will need to intercept them here." A long finger tapped a set of coordinates. "I assume that Lieutenant Castiel is sufficient command of the warbird to thoroughly confuse the invaders?" Castiel nodded once.

"Until Captain Callen sufficiently motivates Starfleet to take action against Lucifer's men, that Romulan warbird needs to stall his fleet. _Enterprise_ will follow as she is battle-worthy. Commander Ash, an estimate on how long repairs will take?"

"She'll be up and running in three hours," Ash replied shortly and cursed as computer code streamed across his screen. "Why the hell did you have to screw the system over so thoroughly?"

Spock skewered the complaining genius with an icy glare and Ash quickly ducked his head, turning back to work.

* * *

_Captains' Rescue Team  
_

Dr. McCoy wasn't talking. No swearing, no grumping, no ranting. It was making Cupcake downright nervous as the doctor vibrated between his two patients. Their prisoner was unconscious in the corner and Cupcake dutifully ensured he stayed that way with an iron fist. He wasn't terribly worried about the nasty concussion the Romulan was undoubtedly incurring.

Captain Kirk's face looked like someone had used it for a punching bag. The sharp-edged, impossibly deep cuts had been closed up quickly enough and Cupcake was hoping things were starting to look up. When he ventured to ask, McCoy had snapped out something about extensive internal injuries and a scrambled nervous system, not even pausing to spare Cupcake a 'shut up and let me work.'

The worst part of it all was that Captain Winchester was still conscious and McCoy couldn't afford to put him out because he needed Dean talking to him. Bones was doing his best with the resources he had but if Dean was conscious, Dean could tell Bones what he felt while the CMO tried to save his captain. It was killing Cupcake to sit there and watch a captain and, dare he say, friend, grin through what had to be excruciating pain.

McCoy had sealed up the nasty slashes that matched Kirk's but evidently, as Dean pointed out with a breathless chuckle, Kirk had pissed off Alistair more than Dean because the _Impala_ captain had escaped the beating. "Despite the fact that I rattled off the entire list of insults Jim and I had been building, Alistair just wouldn't switch focus," Dean hissed through clenched teeth and McCoy paused in his care of Kirk to glance over at his other patient.

"Don't be an idiot," McCoy snapped. "Getting the shit kicked out of you to match this dumbass would just mean more work for me." He finished up with the dermal regenerator and stalked two steps across the shuttle to tend to Dean. Despite his worry and exasperation, the doctor's hands were gentle and when it looked like Dean was going to spend too much time worrying about his friend, McCoy took action. "There's your ship," he pointed out.

Dean's head swivelled around faster than was prudent. "Hell," he sighed, a soft sound of grief. The _Impala_ ensnared his attention almost completely. She was holding together but just barely. The great gaping rents from that terrible battle were patched with the odd, cream-coloured emergency plates and foam. How long ago had the fight been? Weeks? It seemed like years. Only a few lights twinkled on a ship that should have been lit up like a Christmas tree. "Is she space-worthy?" he managed to ask.

"Should be," was Cupcake's reply. "Most of the _Impala_'s crew went off in their captured Romulan warbird to chase down the _Enterprise_ but Commander Winchester left a skeleton crew of engineers to piece the old girl back together. Sulu, Chekov and Scotty are over there now doing what they can." He held out a hand. "So before you undo all of the good doctor's work, stay put. Scotty will get her ready. We've got to get out of Romulan space and while this away team's pretty damned good, we need a captain. For that, you need to recuperate."

McCoy approved of Cupcake's diplomatic handling. It left him free to monitor his battered captain and kept Dean seated. The CMO gently pressed a hypo against the _Impala_ captain's neck and felt a small glow of satisfaction as Dean relaxed marginally. He stabbed everyone with hypos so that when he really needed to administer medication, they didn't notice. Dean and Jim in particular missed this little trick of his.

Jim.

Hell.

McCoy slumped against the wall of the shuttle and checked on his portable med-centre's readout again. Holding steady. Dean wasn't much better but conscious was a good first step. He got word from Amanda that she and the engineers had finished repairing the battered infirmary as best they could. It was ready for the injured.

Three hours later, Bones was seated wearily between his two charges as the _Impala _raced for the Romulan border, Scotty swearing volubly in engineering as Sulu encouraged the limping ship to carry on. Cupcake pointedly ignored the captain's chair he had every right to sit in. He didn't want to be captain, had no aspirations to command. He liked being security chief and sitting in the chair felt disturbingly like betrayal.

Just as the _Impala _skipped into the Neutral Zone and towards safe territory, her captain roused. He managed to sweet talk his way out of the infirmary and hobbled up to the bridge, scowling at the blackened and damaged halls along the way. There were a whole list of people who were going to pay for the travesty inflicted on the _Impala_.

"_This is the _Enterprise_ hailing the _Impala_, _Impala, _do you read?"_ Uhura's mellow voice crackled out of the sparking speaker as Chekov soldered yet another connection into place and slapped the speaker cabinet unceremoniously.

"You vill not hev wideo, keptin," the ensign apologized and Dean shrugged, immediately regretting it as his bandages pulled.

"This is Captain Winchester. Go ahead, _Enterprise_."

There was a long pause in which Dean heard the open microphone on Uhura's end pick up the very unprofessional cheers of his beloved crew on the _Enterprise_'s bridge.

"Why yes, I'm just that fabulous," Dean joked to cover up the swell of emotion threatening to choke him. "Can I get someone serious on the line?"

"_Captain Winchester, I am glad to hear that you are well."_

"Aw Spock, I love you too." Dean shot back with saccharine sweetness. Sulu snorted in amusement at the imaginary Antarctic wind now blowing through the open comm link.

"_Is Captain Kirk present?" _

Dean paused for a second before replying. "He's in the infirmary." One of Dean's many wounds pinched fiercely and he shifted subtly in his seat. "I'll let you know the minute he wakes up. How's Sam?"

"_Commander Winchester is recovering in the infirmary. Dr. Harvelle expects he will awaken within the day. Would you do me the honour of joining me on the _Enterprise_? I have a plan of action and would value your opinion."_

Despite his worry about Sam, Dean couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement.

Spock with a plan.

Heaven help Lucifer.


	12. Adrift

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS: LA, NCIS or Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Spock's bat-shit insane," John grumbled as he watched the shuttle dart towards the _Enterprise_.

"And you know Dean's going to agree with him," Bobby replied in amusement. He was considerably more relaxed than his friend simply because he'd been on more missions with the entity known as Captain Winchester. Bobby knew that no matter what he cooked up, Dean would manage to pull it off and with Spock as support, there was very little in the universe that they couldn't accomplish. "It's a gambit we have to take. It's not like you have any better ideas."

John shot the engineer a dirty glare. He knew he didn't have any better ideas. But contacting Starfleet and therefore broadcasting the location of the only fully functional ship in their tiny armada of three was just stupid.

Of course Dean liked the idea. John squelched down the urge to shoo his kid into the infirmary for mental health care as the _Impala_'s captain limped animatedly around the _Enterprise_'s ready room, skin-coloured bandages stretched over too many patches of Dean's epidermis for John's liking. Judging from the high energy rolling off Dean, he was still hopped up on the good drugs.

Spock stood composedly behind his XO chair, waiting for Dean to request more information. "All right. Let me get this straight. Starfleet's dragging their feet and being generally suspicious of the _Los Angeles_ because they weren't assigned to that area of the Neutral Zone. So. Our little Romulan toy has gone to find the rest of its kind and when it does, we'll swoop in with a very visible _Enterprise_, drawing every major Starfleet ship in the area to capture us. Coincidentally, they will also find Lucifer's pests." Dean paused. "Am I missing anything?"

"Me!" a voice interrupted from the doorway.

Dean gaped and Spock's mouth tightened in exasperation. "What the _hell_ are you doing out of the infirmary?" Dean demanded. Sam ignored his brother and manoeuvred the powered wheelchair into the ready room.

"Your plan is solid but Lucifer will expect this," the _Impala_'s first officer began. "I think we need to expand on it a bit. And for your information, Ellen let me out of sick bay. She said there was no reason to keep me as long as I didn't do anything stupid. Apparently first officers are trustworthy." He smirked triumphantly as Dean scowled.

"All right smartass, what did you have in mind?" his brother demanded shortly.

Sam shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories instead of theories to suit facts." Sam shrugged cheekily at his brother. "The quintessential philosophy of any true detective."

"You're such a nerd," was Dean's dry response. "You want us to go through with the original plan then and just wait for the boogeyman to jump out at us?"

"It's all I've got. Unless you really want to kick the anthill…" Sam's voice trailed off and Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Dude. Spill."

* * *

"This is stupidity," John muttered under his breath two hours later. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately – grumbling, that is. "When I was in Starfleet, we did things by the book because the book worked. Not this ridiculous half-assed style you and your brother use."

"Works for us," Sam shot back.

John shook his head. "You'll forgive me for doubting at the moment. You are deliberately contacting delegates from the New Vulcan Council with the aim of getting the word out. It's a fool's hope. They'll never take you seriously."

Sam shifted in his chair and poked at his cast, resettling it into a more comfortable position. "Exactly. All Spock has to do is sell it."

* * *

Dean had to hand it to Spock. When it came to laying out evidence so that even an idiot child could follow the logic, the Vulcan was unparalleled. Of course, that didn't mean that the child couldn't just stick their fingers in their ears and hum loudly to ignore him.

Kind of like the Vulcan representative right now. For the galaxy's most logical species, this particular specimen was really falling down on the job. That or he had been ordered by the politicians to keep the _Enterprise_ on the line long enough to trace the transmission. Fat chance. Ash was busy scrambling the signal and for all Chekov's whiz-kid tendencies, Dean had never met anyone who did paranoid like Ash.

He snapped back to the argument at hand.

Spock stood braced on the _Enterprise_'s bridge like the last bastion of hope he was pretending to be, face paler than normal with what was probably suppressed rage. They had expected to be stonewalled but actually watching someone hand Lucifer the Federation on a silver platter was infuriating. "Your resistance to our conclusions is illogical at best and hazardous to millions at worst. I do not understand why you will not at least investigate this matter."

The representative stared impassively at his _Enterprise_ counterpart. "You and your co-conspirators are now considered criminals by the Federation, the New Vulcan Council and the Romulan Empire. We are not under any compulsion to acquiesce to any of your demands."

Dean growled and would have probably said something rudely violent but Sam held up a hand. Spock wasn't finished yet.

"As I stated previously," Spock explained with thinning patience, "your conclusion is illogical. Our political standing has no bearing on the facts we have brought to your attention, especially given what is at stake. By all means, arrest us but do not ignore the potential danger. If, as you say, there is no danger than you have lost nothing more than time, manpower and a reasonable amount of money by investigating. If we are correct and you do not investigate," the first officer almost shrugged. "You would find yourself in a very unpleasant situation."

The Vulcan bristled. "Are you threatening me, criminal?"

With his arm secured in a cast, his face spotted with dark green-black bruises and his face drawn with exhaustion, Spock drew himself up rigidly, managing to appear more imposing in his stained, rumpled uniform than the pompously dressed Vulcan in front of him.

"I have no need for threats given my current motives. If you are not capable of accepting or comprehending our logic, then there is no point in discussing this further. Live long and prosper," he sneered, disdain rippling ever so faintly through the calm words.

Dean snorted as in amusement as the Vulcan representative flushed a pretty spring tinge and slammed a hand down on his console, cutting the connection. "You've got to hand it to him. No one can make 'Live long and prosper' translate as 'Fuck off and die, bitch' quite like Spock."

* * *

Jim blinked blearily at the white room surrounding him. It was familiar. He was in the _Enterprise_'s infirmary. Again. He was probably going to spend a good chunk of his Starfleet career in this sick bay.

"You back with me?" Bones demanded irritably.

Smacking his lips together carefully, Jim tried to work up enough moisture to reply. Snorting in exasperation, Bones slipped his captain a small ice chip. "Wha's going on?" Jim finally rasped.

McCoy rolled his eyes. He didn't even know why he tried to keep his captain's mind on recuperating properly. "Spock, Dean and Sam are running a stupid gambit of sorts to try and save the Federation. Lucifer is in the brig but Sam thinks he'll escape. Spock is going to tell off a Vulcan representative and probably burn a few more bridges in the hobgoblin community. The _Impala_'s safe. The Federation still wants you in leg irons. John is going to take the Romulan warbird they hijacked to intercept this mythical fleet that everyone is convinced Lucifer has even though we haven't seen any evidence of it." Clearly Bones was skeptical. "And all the crews are back on their respective ships except for Castiel, Ash, Jo, a security team and John, who are taking the aforementioned Romulan warbird."

Jim blinked slowly, assimilating the information. "'Kay. Anything else?"

"We moved you from the _Impala _to the _Enterprise_. For once Spock won the concussion award. Sam gets points for busted bones. You and Dean are tied in third for getting sliced and diced." McCoy slumped into a chair beside the bed and Jim felt bad. Bones was exhausted and it showed.

"Sorry."

"No you're not," Bones shot back but let a smile flicker around his lips. When Jim didn't immediately make a break for the door, the doctor relaxed more and more until a faint snore reached Jim's ears. With a practiced twist of bandaged fingers, Jim disarmed the bed's security system, commandeered clothes and made a break for the door after snagging a wheelchair. He really wasn't feeling so hot and the fact that he'd at least tried to take it easy in the chair should keep Bones from sedating him into the next century. Hopefully. He spotted the alarmed booby trap on the door just in time before laying some rubber out on the floor and zooming off to the bridge.

Clearly the _Enterprise_ was still undermanned but Jim spotted a few _Impala_ crew manning the most essential stations, all of whom waved or said hello in relieved tones of voice, implying that everyone knew Jim Kirk had jumped in over his head again.

He made it to the bridge in one piece just in time to hear his very irritated first officer finish a transmission with his customary "Live long and prosper." Bitch, Jim mentally tacked on with a grin. For someone who purported to have no emotions, Spock certainly made the nuances of language thrum subtly with insult.

The doors to the bridge swooshed open and Jim rolled out with his usual grin. "Hey everybody, did ya miss me?"

There was a minute of booming silence and then Jim was surrounded by babbling command crew members who had immediately dropped any pretense of decorum. Kirk took a moment to settle back in his wheelchair and listen to their voices – Uhura had been holding it together but now she was almost giddy with relief, Chekov was dead-tired, Sulu was pinching the bridge of his nose against a vicious headache when he thought no one was looking, Cupcake had bags the size of Australia under his eyes, Scotty's accent was so thick only one word in three was recognizable and Spock. Shit. Spock.

Jim's lips tightened briefly. His first officer was standing stiffly, eyes squinted against the concussion that had rattled his brain. Still, he managed to nod at his captain, the movement obviously painful to the sharp-eyed captain. The Winchesters were standing beside him, Sam in a wheelchair that matched Kirk's and Dean leaning unobtrusively against the wheelchair's solid support.

"All right people, settle down," Jim called out clearly. The crew immediately settled and drifted back to their stations. "Dean, sit down before you fall down," he ordered briskly. "That goes for you too, Spock." When Dean moved to argue, Sam pinned his brother with a look that had Dean huffing in graceless acquiescence. "Chekov, update me on the away team."

"Commander Ash and Lieutenant Castiel estimate that they vill arrive at their destination in approximately thirteen minutes, keptin," Chekov reported happily and several people on the bridge felt like gravity had just snapped back into place, cementing life on the _Enterprise_ with the simple routine associated with chain of command.

"Excellent. Status of Starfleet?"

"Actively pursuing us, Captain. The _Los Angeles _and the _Washington_ assure us they are standing by to assist but would appreciate our discretion." Spock's baritone was even as ever but Jim was making a habit out of studying his XO and could tell he was suffering.

"In short, they're asking us nicely not to tank their careers unless necessary."

"Indeed."

"Lucifer?"

"Drugged in the brig." Cupcake's voice was coldly angry. "With your permission captain, I'll go keep an eye on him personally with a communications channel open to Uhura at all times."

"Do it," Jim ordered. Lucifer was a slippery, smart bastard. "Uhura, if he even twitches the wrong way, I want you to lock down that entire floor immediately." She nodded firmly. "Winchester, I assume your bucket of bolts is ready to go?"

Dean winced. "As she'll ever be. Don't count on us to play shield though. All we've got at the moment is her speed and even that's a little on the shaky side. I'll donate a few more crew members to the _Enterprise_ cause. They're probably safer in this tub than they are on the _Impala._"

"Captain, incoming text-only broadcast from Commander Winchester," Uhura reported with a rather fatalistic calm that spread around the bridge.

"Well, here we go," Sam muttered.

* * *

_Impala (Romulan ver.)_

"You _sure_ you know the controls now?" John asked with uncharacteristic trepidation. He had been a security officer, not a captain. Never a captain, and he was heading into battle with a skeleton crew on a ship that still jerked sideways when Castiel swore softly under his breath.

"Just don't ask us to park the damn thing," Ash replied and hurriedly tacked on "sir," when John shot him a look. "On the bright side, if things go really screwy, I'm absolutely positive we can ram this hulk into the nearest enemy." The ensign posted at the science station squeaked in dismay and John rolled his eyes.

"We are not planning any kamikaze runs." Yet, he added mentally. They were tailing the fleet with their cloaking device activated. Lucifer had managed to scrounge up ten or so fully functioning warbirds with smaller ships dotted through the mix to bring their numbers up to twenty two. The most dangerous ship was the heavily guarded and shielded transport in the centre of the fleet, probably carrying a weapon capable of seriously incapacitating a planet.

"_Enterprise_ estimates time of arrival to be thirty two minutes," Ash reported as Cas fiddled with a few more controls.

"All right. We wait until _Enterprise_ attacks and swoop in from the back. Hopefully the two of us will be enough until reinforcements arrive." John's voice sounded calm and in control. He surreptitiously checked the morale of his crew. It seemed like everyone except Ash and Castiel bought it. The two senior crew members were staring at their consoles or screens with tight-jawed determination. They knew only too well how very wrong this whole thing could go. The _Enterprise_ was staffed with a half-crew that only vaguely knew the quirks of the flagship and the Romulan warbird, well, everyone was all too aware of the challenges there.

"Sit and wait," John heard Ash mutter as the eccentric genius let his hands flit all over the foreign console.

Thirty two minutes stretched interminably as the fleet continued to race towards the nearest star base. Then _Enterprise_ dropped out of warp and with her usual ferocious accuracy started hammering away at several of the biggest targets.

"Go, go, go!" John ordered like the drill sergeant he was. Castiel cracked his knuckles and danced the unfamiliar ship around space like a dragonfly, confusing several of their enemies into firing on each other. "Ha," John heard Castiel huff under his breath as Ash plied the disruptors without mercy.

Around and around they went but the _Enterprise_ was taking a hammering and when new enemies began dropping out of warp, John could feel defeat beginning to creep up on them with disturbing speed.

That was when the cavalry arrived.

* * *

_Los Angeles_

"What a damn mess," Callen grumped. He was going to get court-martialed for this, he just knew it. Still, that didn't make his actions any less right. Leaving two Starfleet ships out to dry just wasn't in his nature, especially when the ships happened to be the _Enterprise_ and _Impala_.

Someone had to show a little faith in these guys, especially after they had been reportedly lurking in very dangerous Romulan space for the past three weeks.

He scowled at the panorama before him. _Enterprise_ was hanging in there for the moment and the captive Romulan ship was doing a damned good job of staying ahead of real trouble. Castiel was a piloting wizard and if Callen thought there was any chance of getting the lieutenant on his side, Callen would have probably kidnapped him for the _Los Angeles_. Callen counted the enemy under his breath and ran the numbers again. Nothing was going to change the fact that even with the _Los Angeles, _the Starfleeters were viciously outnumbered. "Where the hell is the _Washington_?" Callen demanded. "And why isn't Starfleet showing up to try and 'arrest' the _Enterprise_?"

Nell raised a finger, asking silently for another minute as she viciously dressed down whoever was on the other end of the line before irritably punching her disconnect button. "According to the cretin I just spoke to, Starfleet is turning a blind eye. Between Uhura and I, we managed to tease the reason out of him. The admiralty tried to help us out by delaying response time when the initial reports rolled in. If they hadn't, _Constitution_ would have the _Enterprise_ in her custody."

"They were useful for once?" Sam asked dryly, running an irritated hand over his bald head as he waited for the overheated phasers to come back online.

"The Federation Council took that idea and ran with it. They don't want to inflame the public by handing over three Starfleet crews to the Romulans but nor dot hey want to piss off the Romulans by protecting us. So they're just going to hang us out to dry." Nell's ire had run out by the time she finished and Callen swore rather unprofessionally. "On the bright side," Nell added, "the _Washington _should arrive any minute now."

"Oh great," Callen muttered sarcastically without really meaning it. Gibbs and his crew would be an enormous help but that still didn't change the fact that they were facing an impossible situation. The _Los Angeles_ shuddered under her first major hit and Kensi calmly reported that shields had just dropped twenty percent.

Then the _Enterprise_ quit firing and all the lights on the big ship flickered.

* * *

_Impala_

"Lucifer," Sam cursed over the _Impala_'s navigation console as he noticed the _Enterprise_ stutter.

"Don't forget about Alistair," Dean pointed out rather inanely as he piloted the _Impala _in a lazy surveillance pattern and shrugged as Sam glared at him. The glare reminded Dean that he had been an ass to his kid brother and should probably do something about it sooner rather than later.

First things first. "Sam, can you shut Lucifer down?"

Sam didn't bother to dignify that with an answer as he wielded Ash's over-powered computer with precision and speed.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Lock down the ship," Kirk ordered calmly when Uhura registered a fight in the cells and Chekov reported a worm eating into the computer. "Cut all computer controls at the source. Remain at your stations and lock all doors." He was proud to see his crew match his attitude, professionally shutting the _Enterprise_ down until she was little more than a coffin in space. "Chekov?"

The Russian's sharp brown eyes were tracking computer code at an inhumanly high rate of speed. Fingers blurred over the keys as he raced against time and the worm. Everyone waited on tenterhooks until their resident computer genius crowed in victory and slumped back in his chair. "Vith Commander Vinchester's assistance from the _Impala, _I hev isolated the bogey in the second-deck rec room. He could not make it as far as engineering or the computer labs. Oh, and ve should probably overhaul the computers again ser. Ash vas hacking again. Gave Commander Vinchester a back door in."

"Worry about that later, Chekov. Cupcake?" Kirk demanded over the comm.

"_Found him,"_ McCoy replied gruffly and Kirk scowled.

"Bones, keep your eyes open and get out of there ASAP," he ordered just in time to hear the buzz of a phaser being discharged. Kirk tried to bolt to his feet but collapsed back into his captain's chair with a wince and waved off his hovering crew. With a growl of frustration, he jerked a head towards Sulu, who bolted for the elevator. "Bones!"

"_Keep your hair on, I'm fine." _

"_I didn't know you were a badass, Doc,"_ Cupcake slurred sloppily and Kirk scowled. Someone had done a number on his chief of security and now his CMO was also exposed.

"Sulu, report."

"_Captain, Dr. McCoy managed to successfully subdue Alistair. Commander Cupcake has a concussion. Lucifer is at large."_

"_Bastard," _Bones muttered with uncharacteristic venom. _"Shoulda just kicked the shit out of him."_

Despite the dire situation, Kirk couldn't stifle a chuckle. "Stay on the right side of the law, maverick. Sulu, contain the situation as you see fit. Bones, find out how the hell Lucifer got conscious."

"_Damn straight."_ Kirk's chuckle grew to a permanent grin. Bones was pissed. With Sulu to cover him, they'd manage somehow.

"Captain, incoming message from the _Impala._ They're requesting a beam-over." Uhura's brow furrowed when no further details emerged. Evidently the _Impala _crew thought Lucifer might be eavesdropping.

"Do it," he ordered.

"_One to beam over and just for the record Kirk, I am not happy about this."_ Dean's voice was hard and irritated.

"Why is Sam not in sick bay?" Kirk demanded, knowing that the only person who would both defy and anger Dean in this situation was his brother.

"_Because he thinks he can catch Lucifer for good."_

And Dean believed him, even if believing in Sam ticked Dean off astronomically. Kirk sighed. "I'll team him up with Bones, who is in a very grumpy mood. Sulu will cover their backs."

"_Oh, a doctor who hates phasers and a wanna-be ninja, that makes me feel better."_

"Better than you or me at the moment," Kirk snapped back, fully intending to set Dean reeling. Judging from the shocked scowl, he had succeeded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a space battle to fight and a sociopath to hunt down."


	13. Equilibrium

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, Firefly, NCIS or NCIS: LA.

I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out! Real life caught me by the tail and took me for a wild ride last week. On top of that, the characters staged a mild rebellion. However, I have successfully corralled them again (mostly) and therefore, I present you with the next chapter of _The Weight of Command_.

Again, apologies and enjoy!

* * *

_Enterprise_

Sam tested out his walking cast with a tap-tap against the _Enterprise_'s durasteel floor and nodded in satisfaction when his knee didn't twinge or complain. Much. "Sir?" Sulu called down the hall and Sam thumped towards him, eyes cold and focused.

"What do we know?"

Sulu fell into step immediately. "Alistair is in our custody and he won't be waking up anytime soon. Judging from video evidence and Dr. McCoy's conjecture, Lucifer has accustomed himself to a wide variety of sedative drugs. He isn't wholly immune but given enough time he will fight his way out from under them. He probably anticipated this very situation."

"Probably. Continue."

"He has been loose for eight minutes and counting. We've lost track on him on the cams because clearly he's clever enough to avoid them. The ship is in lockdown and even if he succeeds in hacking through a door, an alarm will go off. Therefore he is confined to a two block radius of this area. Ventilation shafts, floors, walls and ceilings are also alarmed."

"Jim's gotten paranoid in his old age."

Sulu chuckled dryly. "Actually, he, Chekov and Scotty got really drunk after a very boring mission. When the captain came out from under the hangover, he figured the additions were a good idea."

Sam didn't share the laugh, brain racing to keep ahead of Lucifer. This was going to end here and now, one way or the other. "Get me a schematic of the locked down area. Jim will look after the rest of the ship. I want to know where Lucifer is headed."

Sulu promptly passed over a PADD, tapping a location on the screen. "Computing station, weapons and potential access to the rest of the ship," he supplied helpfully. "Dr. McCoy's over there with the security team."

Sam's lips tightened in rage as he took in the scene. McCoy had it under control but there were two dead, their necks snapped like twigs. The survivor was suffering from severe phaser overload and Cupcake's disconnected, uncoordinated movements spoke to a serious concussion. "Sulu, I need you to cover Alistair," McCoy barked. "I'm running out of sedatives and with the ship locked down, there's no way of getting more." Sulu silently took up the orders with a scary focus. If the Romulan so much as twitched, Sam imagined that Sulu would consign him to unconscious oblivion with glee.

"I'm going to corner Lucifer," he announced. McCoy raised both eyebrows to his hairline.

"Are you now?" the good doctor asked sarcastically as Sam ignored the disapproving look, stumping off down the hall with his phaser ready.

"Stay here and keep your eyes open," he tossed over his shoulder, not bothering to look back.

* * *

_Impala_

"I don't like this," Dean announced aloud. He wasn't referring to Sam and everyone knew it. Even if Sam wasn't capable of keeping himself in one piece, Jim Kirk would definitely look out for the Sasquatch. No, he was talking about the space battle roaring around him. _Los Angeles_ was doing most of the ass-kicking as the _Enterprise_ floundered, systems locked out and the _Impala_ wrung her hands like some pansy-assed damsel in distress.

He was considering ditching their very unreliable, cranky cloak and jumping into the fray when more help arrived. _Washington_ roared in, phasers flickering out with destructive accuracy.

It should have made Dean feel better.

Instead, the feeling of impending doom only grew heavier.

They were missing something. A small, key piece that could bring this whole house of cards tumbling down on their heads. Dean just couldn't figure out what it was.

He couldn't afford the luxury of sitting around pondering it either. _Washington _and _Los Angeles_ were still outnumbered five to one and the numbers were starting to tell. Big and strong could still be taken out by small and weak if enough shots got through. "Bobby, is she ready for battle?"

There was a snort on the other end of the comm. _"Hell no. We should be limping towards the closest star base for a complete refit. But if you insist, this bucket of bolts has maybe one or two hits in her. The shields aren't going to hold, the engines are falling apart and the phasers spotty at best. I'm surprised the cloak's held as long as it has."_

With that information under his belt, Dean decided the most successful route would be to remain under cloak and fire the phasers as long as possible. It would freak out their opponents and if the shields were shit anyway, the cloak would buy them more time than they would have had without it, even if it conked out five seconds into manoeuvres.

There were a glorious six and a half minutes in which the _Impala_ thoroughly confused everyone involved in the battle except the _Enterprise_. Sam wasn't around to play communications officer and Dean was short on personnel. As long as _Los Angeles_ or _Washington _didn't shoot the _Impala_ in her very battered ass, Dean would happily let them stay bewildered. Then a shot in the dark from one of the Romulan ships rocked the _Impala_, the bridge lights flickered and Dean swore.

"_We're out of it, Dean! That just totalled the impulse drive!"_

Dean swore.

* * *

_Washington_

They hadn't been in a spot quite this tight for a while, Gibbs acknowledged shortly to himself as the ship shuddered under his feet. He was gearing up for round two when the _Impala_ blinked into view.

"I didn't know Winchester had a cloak," Dinozzo blurted in surprise. The plucky _Impala_ was trailing plasma like an arterial bleed, floating dead in space. Gibbs was just about to cover the limping ship's ass when their opponents suddenly broke off in a dozen different directions.

"_Shit_," Gibbs swore sharply as he came to a stunning revelation, causing everyone to flinch but continue their work. "Bastards. Lucifer just wanted to know how much firepower we had on our side and now they know there's only four of us. Three if Kirk can't get the _Enterprise_ back. Two if Singer can't get his ship moving again. McGee, you track every single ship that just buggered off while I try to sort out this mess. Ziva, dial up Callen, Kirk and Winchester."

The communications officer shook her head. "_Enterprise_ is still on lockdown. Connecting to Captains Callen and Winchester now."

The screens filled with irritated captains who had clearly come to the same conclusion Gibbs arrived at. "Suggestions?" Winchester grated out, annoyance etched tensely into his face as he waved at the smoke spewing from his bridge ceiling.

"We need serious firepower on this one," Callen contributed. "Starfleet?"

Gibbs let their conversation wash over him as he pondered the problem. They had good ideas, relevant ones that would probably work but it wouldn't give the politicians the sharp jab in the ass they needed to get moving.

"We need a leak."

Callen and Winchester stopped brainstorming and blinked in confusion. "Dude, you don't have to ask permission, just go." Dinozzo sputtered indignantly as Callen chuckled at the snappy comeback while a lazy, amused smirk curled the _Impala_ captain's mouth but didn't reach his eyes. Winchester was figuratively hanging on by his battered, bloodied fingernails.

Gibbs shot the insubordinate snot a Look, the one that usually stopped Dinozzo dead in his tracks.

He was gratified to see the kid's eyes lighten even as Winchester swallowed, unconsciously straightening his shoulders. He could tell he'd taken a weight off both captains, redistributing the load onto his experienced shoulders. Someone around here had to remember that the two (promising) numbskulls in front of him weren't veterans just yet, even if they were damn good at what they did.

"We need to leak the confrontation with the Federation to the news." Gibbs' mouth twisted in distaste as his crew tried to remain professional, hiding their amusement with little success. Gibbs' hatred of the press was notorious. "Joe Schmoe's not going to care about internal wrangling or even international politics if his white picket fence is threatened."

He could see the realization dawning in the other captains' eyes. "I know just the guy to help us leak it, too," Winchester drawled with a grin.

* * *

_Serenity_

"Incoming from _Impala_, Mal," Kaylee reported from where she was crunched up in what should not have been a comfortable position beside the communication console.

"Dean, that bastard!" Mal exclaimed boisterously, abusing the microphone into life. "I knew he wouldn't end up dead. Winchester! You look like shit."

There was a hiss of dead air for a second and then the transmission caught up. "Well, you aren't my first choice of screensaver either, jackass. Hey, listen up. I've got a job for you," Dean jumped right in. "It'll really stick it to the big administration you hate so much."

Mal hummed in surprise. "Really now. Tell me more."

* * *

_Starfleet Command – Admiral Pike_

Pike was halfway to convincing the admiralty that the Romulans were really behind the attack on the _Impala_ when every screen in the building flickered on. "Are we transmitting?" a young woman asked off-screen.

"Yep," a different voice replied dreamily. "Patch it through."

This smacked of the lost idiots, Pike realized sharply and sat forward expectantly.

Sure enough, a real-time video started playing. The feed's tracing information was scrolling across the bottom of the screen, leaving little to no doubt that this was taking place as it was being broadcasted. The chances of it being a fake were very low.

And what a feed it was.

Simultaneously broadcasting from three different locations, the screen split evenly so billions of beings across the Federation could see the _Impala_ limping through space, her shuttles darting about in a mad attempt to patch up the damage again. The _Los Angeles,_ fighting six different ships in an attempt to defend Starbase 2 dominated the centre of the screen as her shields flickered, spewing fresh carbon scoring across her hull plates. Finally, the _Washington_ was darting around a medical supply convoy as the transport ships took heavy fire, their small guard vessels already scattered across space like so many broken Lego blocks.

Each of the attacking ships had the distinctive characteristics of Romulan ships.

Pike had his ammunition in spades.

In fact, the entire admiralty looked hungry for action, their eyes gleaming like wolves'. "Lieutenant, make sure that transmission keeps playing and can't be traced or hacked," Chandra ordered sharply to his aide. "I don't want to know where it's coming from. Neither do you. I'm declaring those individuals to be confidential informants, entitled to all the protection the admiralty can offer. Understood?" The aide nodded sharply.

"I'll track down the _Enterprise_," Pike volunteered. "I'll be commandeering the _Constitution_ and organizing our response to this threat."

Vance was already snapping orders to his aide as well. "I want to be connected to the _Washington_ yesterday! We need to know what Gibbs knows ASAP. Move!"

Cartwright rolled his aging shoulders, looking very much like a gleeful shark that had scented blood in the water. "I'll handle the politicians."

* * *

_Enterprise_

Sweat trickled down Sam's forehead. Jim had wisely shut down practically every single system on his beloved ship, right down to the ventilation fans. To Sam's discomfort, this particular corridor was rather uncomfortably close to the pulsing, hot heart of the _Enterprise_. Dim emergency lighting guided his way as he carefully stalked his prey.

"I know you're there, Sam."

Sam consciously forced himself to relax after the creepy voice caused him to jump. "Yeah, I figured you'd know. I also figured you know there's no way off this ship." He stopped short of stepping around the corner to confront his enemy.

"Azazel knows what to do."

"And Alistair?"

Lucifer chuckled. "Would you save a rabid dog? He's been useful. But he's unpredictable and so very _stupid_ outside of his specialties. Never likes to talk about anything new." A circuit sparked and Lucifer swore. "Really," he mumbled around what had to be a finger stuck in his mouth, "no one interesting wants to work with me. It's so very sad. You sure you won't be joining me, Sammy? The possibilities are endless."

Sam closed his eyes, counting to ten and swallowing the bile of revulsion that crept up his throat. "There is nothing in this universe that could convince me to join you in the way you're hoping. Nothing."

"Such a shame," Lucifer lamented. "I'll just have to kill you, then." Footsteps drew closer and closer to Sam, who leaned back against the durasteel wall. No way to fight him, not with a broken knee. No way to run with that same knee.

Phaser fire hissed out and Sam cracked an eye open.

Still alive. Still conscious.

"You stubborn bastard," a welcome voice growled. "You could have just told me you wanted me to shoot him."

Sam grinned weakly at his saviour. "If I had told you, Sulu would have come and then Alistair would be unguarded. And quite frankly, you're a better shot than Sulu and just as sneaky. Is he alive?"

Bones slapped his phaser back into its holster and irritably jerked several security ties around an unconscious Lucifer's wrists and ankles before stripping the half-Romulan of everything except his underwear. "Of course he's alive. I'm a doctor, not an assassin."

"I don't think anyone would blame you," Sam muttered.

Bones paused, standing up from where he was securing yet another tie around the pesky Lucifer's limbs. "That's exactly why I shouldn't kill him," the doctor said cryptically. "It's not my decision to make, no matter how much he deserves it. Come on. Let's get you off that knee and this piece of slime," he jerked forcefully on Lucifer's foot, dragging him down the hallway, "into a durasteel-threaded straightjacket."

* * *

_Impala_

"_Sam says the leader of this little invasion is Azazel. Name ring a bell?" _Kirk asked from a marginally functional _Enterprise_.

Dean scowled at his friend. "No, should it?"

"_Beats me but if we can locate him, maybe we can chop the head off this serpent before more people die. Is the _Impala_ in moveable condition?"_ Kirk asked, cold light in his eyes.

"Nope. We ain't going nowhere," Dean drawled as his crew practically simmered with frustration around him.

"_In that case, we're going to hand off our prisoners to you and track down the ships that headed towards Earth. Bones would like you to know that the only reliable way to keep Lucifer contained is to knock him out via phaser whenever he shows signs of consciousness and apparently the man's voided his right to avoid being shot more than six times while in captivity."_

"Great. We're little more than a prison ship," Dean griped.

"_Who the hell said that? We're going to drop off the prisoners and necessary parts. It's your job to catch up. God knows we're going to need the fastest ship in Starfleet before this mess clears up. I'm also returning your first officer. He's a bad influence on Bones."_ Kirk grinned cheekily with what was probably relief before he cocked an ear towards Uhura. _"Gotta go, Pike's on the other line. _Finally._ We'll keep you posted."_

Dean swivelled in his seat as the bridge doors hissed open. "Have fun?" he asked his brother sarcastically. Sam nodded thoughtfully, not really paying attention to his captain. "Cat got your tongue?"

Sam blinked. "What? Oh, no. Bones just gave me something to think about, that's all. Bobby, I need to see the damage reports. I think if we reroute some of the conduits we can get impulse engines back online. The sooner we get back to Earth the better."

Dean liked the sound of that but noted that a vague frown flitted across Sam's face.

"What?" he demanded crossly. "Bones _shot_ Lucifer. The asshole's completely unconscious, trussed up like a turkey and jammed in the brig under Jo's beady eye. All we have to do now is mop up the mess."

Sam shook his head. "It's probably nothing," he muttered and turned to the all-important job of getting the _Impala _functional.

"Nothing my ass," Dean replied shortly, suppressing a grin as Cas nodded emphatically.

Sam sighed and paused in his calculations. "I just get the feeling that we're still dancing to his tune, that's all."

"Dude. Is there any possible way Lucifer could have anticipated Bones shooting him? I mean, Lucifer's never spent time with Bones. He didn't even know if Bones knew which end of a phaser dealt out the punishment." Dean spread his hands. "Stop borrowing trouble."

Sam shrugged listlessly, eyes a million parsecs away. "But Lucifer knows me."

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Spock, tell me how to find this Azazel character," Kirk ordered briskly. The _Enterprise _was still coming out of lock-down but by the time she was done, Spock would have a direction for them. Pike had received their reports thus far and was standing by with a fleet ready to mobilize the minute Kirk said jump. On top of that, reinforcements were racing to projected destination based on trails left by the Romulan invaders.

It wasn't over yet but for the first time in weeks, Kirk felt like he had a handle on the events surrounding him instead of frantically trying to play catch-up. "Remind the Starfleet vessels not to fire on Commander Winchester's warbird. The admiralty wants to study that thing like I want a cold beer and a hot date." He grinned when Uhura nailed him with a glare.

"Captain, I believe I have a promising prospect," Spock interrupted. "I believe the leader of this endeavour will be heading towards Starbase 6."

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "The centre of Starfleet R&D? Why?"

"Because, captain," Spock looked grave, "that is also coincidentally where the Intelligence Office is being temporarily housed. While Lucifer is bent on physically destroying the Federation, I know he is intelligent enough to understand that such an undertaking would be difficult without the proper intelligence. He is, in effect, starting a war. Any war runs on its information and the greatest number of enemy ships is not heading to Earth as one might expect." He let the rest of the argument play out for itself.

"All right," Kirk said slowly. "Uhura, notify Pike. Sulu, lay in a course for Starbase 6, maximum warp. Chekov, figure out how Lucifer knew how to find IO. Get Gabriel involved if you must."

When the _Enterprise _was running smoothly towards her destination, Kirk tipped his head back against his chair and tried to think through the pounding headache as his wounds pulled painfully.

There was still a piece of the puzzle missing.

He just didn't know what it looked like. Kirk wasn't even capable of drawing a prediction based on the known pieces surrounding it.


	14. Squeeze

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS or NCIS: LA.

* * *

_Impala_

Captain Dean Winchester stared at the helpless being lying at his feet in the _Impala_'s brig. It would be so simple, so easy to just end it. His family and crew, they'd back him up. Lucifer just happened to die en route. The half-Romulan had been hit by phaser fire and drugged several times, an overdose wasn't improbable. There was no reason why he shouldn't and every reason he should.

"_Don't, Dean_." Sam's weary voice over the comm held him in place better than any physical restraint. Sam had been persuaded to take up his wheelchair again, directing repair efforts from the bridge.

He shot his brother a half-hearted glare through the camera. Undoubtedly, Sam had some great, deep-thinking, girlish reason to keep their enemy alive but puzzling out said reason would undoubtedly end in a chick flick moment.

That and while he was pretty sure their careers were almost toast but killing a prisoner would really sink Dean's captaincy for good.

"Get him out of my sight," Dean growled and Jo flicked a hand-command to her security team. "I don't want him conscious. Hook him up to a monitoring device and the instant his brain flickers, put him out again. If that fails, you expose this cell to hard vacuum. Understood?" Jo's face mirrored Dean's in its grimness. Anyone who had gotten the drop on Cupcake would be treated like a rouge warp core by _Impala_ security.

Confident Jo had it under control, Dean limped off to see Bobby. He had a ship to put together.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"What would make a man interesting to Lucifer?"

Spock arched an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

His captain spun almost idly in his chair, picking at one of his bandages despite Bones' glare. "What would make this entire Federation interesting to a supremely bored man who craves pain, chaos and destruction?"

Spock applied logic to the question. "Death on a widespread scale."

Kirk scowled, wrinkling up his forehead. "Yeah but if you had limited time and really wanted to hit the Federation where it hurt, where would you aim a concentrated attack? The best way to ensure travesties would be to start a war and quickly. Ideas, anybody?"

"Assassinate a major public figure," Uhura suggested. "It's a classic that ignited World War I."

Kirk hummed thoughtfully. "Not everyone likes politicians though and there's the whole powder keg thing that has to be set up. It'd take time. Lucifer wants the entire Federation howling for blood yesterday. Preferably Romulan blood, judging from the ships currently attacking us."

"Humans are often highly emotional when their children are threatened," Spock offered and watched with concern as the blood drained from his captain's face.

"The annual children's tour of Starbase 2 is kicking off today," Kirk voiced with horror. The bridge fell eerily silent as everyone absorbed the implications. The crew had been looking forward to playing ferry for the children – the flagship _Enterprise_, teeming with over-excited children.

Obviously, turning into Starfleet fugitives had put a dent in that particular mission.

Kirk pulled himself together with an effort. "Right. _Washington_'s tied up with that convoy. _Los Angeles_ is busy kicking the shit out of those Romulan ships. _Impala_'s still out of commission for the moment. Uhura, patch me through to Pike."

A harried looking Admiral answered, still barking orders to other comm channels as he finished signing a PADD. _"Kirk, tell me you have things under control."_ Kirk winced and Pike rolled his eyes. _"What now?"_

"Well," he hedged, "I don't have any proof per se, but we were just thinking. If I was an evil mastermind and I wanted the entire Federation up in arms, I'd take out the starbase full of children. Do you have a Miranda-class ship you could spare just in case?"

Pike scowled. _"The only unassigned Miranda in reach is the _Impala_."_

Kirk's mouth twisted in consternation. "They're holding Lucifer and I'm not sure the _Impala_'s space-worthy."

Pike was already ignoring him. _"Get me Winchester on the line and relay the order. If he's capable of reaching the 'base in time, tell them we'll standby to receive the prisoners. We're going to be heading into battle ourselves in a moment Kirk, so you're going to be on your own. If you get your mess sorted out, you're to assess and assist as you see fit. Don't let IO try and keep you at their beck and call."_

Kirk tried not to wince as one of his wounds complained. This day was just getting better by the second. "Send Commander Winchester and his Romulan acquisition with them," he suggested. "I've already heard complaints from both Winchester and his allies that it's damn hard to shoot when they're worried about hitting a friendly."

Pike nodded. It was a sound proposition, especially if the _Impala_ was still impaired. A stray thought occurred to him. _"You just want the kids to be able to say they've seen a Romulan warbird."_

Despite the situation, Kirk grinned infectiously and Pike rolled his eyes in exasperation.

* * *

Two hours later, Kirk was definitely not smiling. Starbase 6 was spewing atmosphere from several ruptured decks as a half-staffed _Enterprise_ did her level best to fight off three ships. The battle wasn't going well, to put it mildly. When it became clear that their Romulan opponents were going to take a while to disable _Enterprise_, they made a concerted suicide effort. Two ships distracted Sulu and Chekov while the third ship took the opportunity to scream towards the _Enterprise_, aiming for either the ship or the starbase.

Kirk grimaced in irritation. "Fire all," he ordered sharply, "and continue firing until that ship stops! Reroute power from the shields to the weapons!"

Immediately, the _Enterprise_ began shuddering under the intense fire as her shield strength dropped from 93% down to 70%. "Keptin, ve cannot continue to take this sort of abuse!" Chekov reported shortly.

Kirk's mouth was clamped in a thin line, listening to the scream of metal around him._ Enterprise_ would hold together. He knew she would.

* * *

_Impala_

Dean couldn't lie. He was happy to see Lucifer out of his vengeful reach. The urge to do violence to the enemy was almost overwhelming, a not so small voice in his head complaining that he'd lost his chance to avenge both his crew and his brother as the _Impala _warped away on her new mission. Right now, Dean Winchester was feeling the full weight of a Starfleet captain keeping him from what he thought he wanted to do. Any action taken by him would reflect poorly on his crew and killing Lucifer would bring more heat down on their heads.

There were times when he hated his overactive sense of responsibility and this was definitely one of them.

On top of that, he was heading off to babysit a star base full of rugrats. If Kirk was right, the _Impala _would be in the fight of her career, a feeble shield between cruelty and innocence. If Kirk was wrong and Pike just wanted a falling-apart _Impala_ out of the road, then Dean would be very grateful very deep inside and very outwardly indignant. Dean Winchester might be a crazy-ass son of a bitch but he knew when his ship was staggering along. Right now? She was three paperclips shy of disintegration.

His brother didn't look any better – Sam was held together with lots of medical glue and sheer determination. Not that Dean was doing much better, he admitted to himself as Ash warily scanned the space around Starbase 2 with a dilapidated set of sensors. Dean tapped the arm of his chair idly and watched his father's acquired ship circle the star base lazily. Cas was still out there with John, leaving Ash and Dean to tag-team the pilot's responsibilities. The situation didn't make Dean happy though because John was now commanding a rag-tag crew of personnel appropriated from the _Constitution_ and the _Impala_, whose crew was now split three different ways. Fifty percent was trying to desperately pilot the enormous _Enterprise_, twenty percent were getting a crash course in Romulan warbird and that left Dean with a grossly understaffed ship.

Focus on the positives. He had Sam. He had Bobby. The _Impala_ had her warp drive and impulse engines back online. The shields were functional.

And the bastard Lucifer was still in custody.

That particular thought brought Dean back to a creative end for the psychopath and he gave up on resisting the urge to fantasize about Lucifer's death, rather happily sinking into broody thoughts of torture.

That was when Lucifer's revenge struck.

The Romulan warbird under the command of Dean's father, the ship that had been so proudly acquired to protect the _Impala_ and her crew exploded, ripping into a thousand brilliant flowers of flame and molten metal against the uncaring blackness of space.

* * *

_Constitution_

"I'm waaaiting," Lucifer sing-songed to himself. The admiral had revived him from the drug-induced blackness in an attempt to interrogate Lucifer. The admiral, Lucifer decided, would be another interesting addition to his final plan. "Do-dee-do," he hummed. "Wait for it. Ah, here they come! Did you find it in time, _Admiral_ Pike?" Judging from the rage in the man's stiff posture, he hadn't. "Oh dear," Lucifer sympathized, sincerity oozing from pale blue eyes. "You didn't, did you. And now they're _dead_."

"You must have a death wish," Pike gritted out through clenched teeth.

Lucifer lifted his cuffed hands in a shrug. "Flirting with death is the only way to feel alive, Chris. I've been dancing with it so long that I have to force my way into even a waltz. I'm pushing for a tango, just so you know. Could you be a peach and do me a favour? How many died?" he asked with inappropriate anticipation.

Pike shook his head and punched a button on the cell console. Hissing gas filled the room and Lucifer rolled his eyes even as his brain swam hazily.

"Really? Unconscious again? I'm going to overdose at this rate," he grumbled. "Well, at least I have the brain cells to spare."

* * *

_Washington_

"Who the hell is soulless enough to attack a hospital convoy full of sick people?" Dinozzo grumbled as he flipped the _Washington_ around to face a new opponent.

"Focus, Dinozzo," Gibbs barked. "Abs, I need more power!"

There was a brief pause before the excited engineer replied that there wasn't anymore to give but she'd try something new and don't ask if it was going to blow up the ship because it wasn't no matter what McGee said. Gibbs glanced at his navigator and science officer, who shrugged helplessly.

"Captain," Ziva interrupted. "Captain, we are recalled to Starbase 2 immediately. Red alert, priority one. Commander Winchester's vessel has been sabotaged. The ship has suffered catastrophic damage. Number of casualties is unknown at this time."

To his crew's credit, they shifted gears seamlessly. Shields were reinforced, power hummed to the warp drive and the _Washington_ left a fight unfinished for the first time since Gibbs took command.

* * *

_Los Angeles_

Callen waved a hand at the smoke hazing the air. The _Los Angeles _was taking a pounding even as more and more ships slipped away. When the _Enterprise_ had left, Callen's firepower had decreased significantly. Pike's ships were busy chasing down the Romulan ships that had run and although an alarm had gone out to every ship in the 'Fleet, most were scattered across space. Few, if any, would reach the _LA_ in time and none of them were big enough to help significantly.

"Captain!" Nell cried, distress strident in her voice. "The Romulan ship under the command of Commander Winchester just exploded! The _Impala_ sent out a red alert, priority one!"

Shit. Red alert, priority one. That was a new unofficial _Enterprise_/_Impala_ designation. He snorted humourlessly. Only the _Impala_ or _Enterprise_ would need to prioritize freaking red alerts. "Deeks, get us out of here no matter what."

The usually laidback blond pilot grimly smeared a hand across the bleeding cut on his face and let his fingers race across the console as the _LA _shuddered sluggishly under his touch. "Eric, we need to go _now_!" Callen barked and worried during the brief, too-long pause before Eric shouted an affirmative, his voice scratchy and pitched with stress.

_Los Angeles_ hopped to warp, trailing angry opponents after her like a line of ducklings. Callen scowled when he heard they weren't giving up. If the _LA_ maintained top speed, she would have approximately ten minutes of clear space at the explosion site before her pursuers caught up.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Bastards," Sulu hissed as Uhura gasped and Chekov paled to chalk white as the _Enterprise_ received news of the explosion.

Kirk ignored his stricken crew, thoughts racing at warp ten. "Spock," he began and the first officer picked up on the train of thought immediately.

"We have been dancing to the tune, as a human would say, from the very beginning," Spock stated calmly. "Up to and including the ships available for commandeering. I imagine the information in the Romulan lab was also planted."

"So Lucifer's primary goal is likely the information held by IO," Kirk mused aloud as the crew tried to fidget, their thoughts focused on the disaster over at Starbase 2. "The kids are just an indulgence, if you will. That and rage will make us more 'interesting.' There's something in IO that Lucifer wants badly enough to start a full-on war with the Federation. We stay here, keep our mouths shut. Uhura, can you find me SIO Gabriel?"

Uhura squashed down her emotions and turned her attention to the job at hand. "SIO Gabriel," she managed in a quavering voice, "has been attempting to get in contact with us for the past thirty seconds. Shall I put him on, captain?"

At Kirk's nod, the battered _Enterprise_ screen flickered to life as Sulu and Chekov continued to evade their enemies. "Talk fast Gabriel," Kirk snapped. "I haven't got much time."

"_We've got an infiltrator,"_ Gabriel barked back, bruised face smeared with soot. _"They hacked the central computer core and are attempting to flee the 'base. I could use a security team or five."_

Kirk snorted and shrugged. "I haven't got them. I'm running on half a crew as it stands. The best I can do is hold them off." Gabriel scowled.

"Captain, if I may?" Spock interrupted.

With a wave of the hand, Kirk let Spock take centre stage. "I believe, SIO Gabriel, that it will be possible to neutralize the entire 'base in under a minute and thirteen seconds."

Gabriel's eyebrows practically jumped into midair. "Just a minute thirteen?"

The Vulcan's deadpan stare didn't change one iota. "One minute, thirteen seconds. That allows a 1.5 second margin for human error."

"_Naturally,_" Gabriel grumbled. "_What did you have in mind?_"

* * *

_Starbase 6_

As Kirk and his crew fought a space battle, Spock walked Gabriel through a contingency plan the Vulcan had developed in case he should ever want to take out a starbase. Gabriel pointedly did not ask why Kirk was smirking the whole time Spock talked. He did not want to know why Kirk had sicced his first officer on this particular job. Gabriel was savvy enough to realize the plan was generic enough to apply to just about every 'base in the Federation.

Tying the 'base's power sources directly into the gravity well was normally astronomically difficult. Increasing gravity to the point where even breathing was a chore should have been impossible. Spock had somehow written a code that hacked in and accomplished this. Gabriel tried briefly to remember most of it – a handy little tool, that virus – but realised it was far too complicated unless you happened to have an eidetic memory. The final punch of keys had him slumping to the ground, breathing slowly and calmly, his lungs feeling like they were sucking thick syrup.

He heard the _Enterprise_ crew fighting desperately. He heard Kirk curse as a data stream spat by the ship, arriving safely at its destination on the lead enemy ship. The gravity lifted as Spock restored the 'base to normal function. "Come pick me up," he growled. "I have an idea of what they got from the Intelligence Office."

"_Not good?"_

"That's an understatement. We need to talk."

"_Sure. When we're en route to the _Impala_. Move your ass to the nearest transporter pad and make it fast."_

* * *

_Enterprise_

Kirk braced himself as a tired, beaten-looking Gabriel strode onto the bridge. The man's bright clothing was torn and stained, his normally cheerful expression grim. "They got the base code," he announced briefly. Quizzical, Kirk glanced over at Spock.

"The code upon which the Federation-wide stock market is built," Spock stated.

"That's the one." Gabriel kicked the bridge's handrail. "I was promised by my superiors that the damn thing had been destroyed. Rebuilding enough of it from scratch would take a team of experts several lifetimes now that the data's flowing through the system and extrapolating on it. However, they kept a sample, God knows why. Probably so that some highly placed fat cat could run a scam on the system if he ever got bored."

Kirk rubbed his forehead where a booming headache pounded at his temples. "So Lucifer and his crew could crash the Federation's economy, effectively crippling Starfleet in the process."

"Give the man a cookie." Gabriel slumped to the floor, back against the wall of the bridge where he closed his eyes, appearances and protocol be damned.

Kirk gingerly crossed his arms and thought hard. Either he chased this goon down in Romulan territory and _maybe_ recovered the code or he went and definitely helped the _Impala_ pick up the pieces. He stared mindlessly at the screen. On one hand, this individual could take down the entire Federation. On the other, his friends were in serious trouble. "Uhura, send Pike the particulars of our little fiasco here. Sulu, maximum warp to the _Impala_'s coordinates."

The crew silently obeyed as Gabriel's mouth gaped open. He was going to protest until he took in the firm set of the captain's jaw and the cold glitter of his blue eyes. Lives would triumph over money any time in Kirk's mind and the SIO supposed it would take even Lucifer several months to hack into the stock market.

Kirk was gambling on the Federation coming up with a firewall capable of keeping the bastard out.

With a fatalistic shrug, Gabriel kept his opinions to himself. Money meant very little to the spy anyway and a stock market crash wouldn't affect him all that much. He had always been and always would be a survivor.

Still, even Gabriel flinched when they dropped out of warp and nearly tripped over a stoic _Impala_ methodically sifting through the shattered wreckage of a Romulan warbird.

The only bright aspect of the current situation was that the warbird hadn't been pulling an _Impala_, who had been hovering right beside the star base at the time of the explosion.

"Shit," Kirk cursed softly. "Is the _Impala_ booby-trapped as well? Are _we_?"

Everyone exchanged nervous glances, even the captain and the Vulcan. "Scotty?"

"_Cleaner than my mither's babe's bottom in a neat white nappy_," the engineer replied, his voice echoing hollowly with attempted wit.

Kirk couldn't resist the comeback, refused to let the disaster suck him into a state of paralysis. "That's debatable, Mr. Scott. I have seen your mother's babe's bottom in its usual attire on a regular basis and it's always covered in engine grease."

"_Exactly. Clean as a whistle,"_ Scotty replied with every sincerity. Clearly engine grease was not considered dirt. _"Preliminary scans of the _Impala_ indicate that Bobby's already seen to the traps on the puir lassie."_

Yeah, that would have been Dean's second concern right after the crew on the warbird.

Kirk swallowed hard.

"_Enterprise_ hailing _Impala. _How bad is it?"


	15. Enough

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS or NCIS: LA.

* * *

_Impala_

Dean didn't waste a second in shock. The aftermath of the explosion was still leaving afterimages on his retinas when he started barking orders. "Bobby, I want this ship swept for bombs or sabotage. Jo, get a fleet of shuttles mobilized. We need a red alert, priority one sent out to every Starfleet ship in the area Sam. Ash, prioritize areas of that warbird to be resealed and pumped with atmosphere if necessary. Track every life sign in the vicinity, no matter how faint. _Move_, people!"

The _Impala_'s crew scrambled, desperation pumping through their veins. They had come too far, tasted that hint of safety wafting from the heart of Starfleet territory to lose their own now.

"Captain, I'm registering four, no, five life signs on the bridge, which is losing atmosphere," Ash reported crisply.

"Jo, that's your priority!" Dean snapped, right leg bouncing with tension. Pink began to stain the edges of the bandages wrapped around his thigh. He glanced over at Sam, whose face was whiter than a sheet. The buzzing at the back of Dean's skull that had started when he realized his _dad_ and _Cas_ had been on that ship increased. Sam was terrified, hanging on by his fingernails and it reinforced Dean's own fear.

Winchesters do not deal with fear well. At all.

And he was glued to this damn chair. Winchester stubbornness or no, he knew he'd just be in Jo's way if he insisted on going along. "Ellen, you standing by with a med-team?" Dean demanded shortly.

"_Yep._"

Sam's shoulders hunched and Dean resisted the urge to pray to deaf deities.

"_I've got movement,"_ Jo reported suddenly.

Her statement was supposed to make things better, not worse. Yet now that there was hope, the pressure to save, to do _something_ was crushing Dean.

* * *

_Impala Security Team  
_

"I've got movement," Jo barked into her pressure suit's mic as her best pilot zipped towards the shattered ship. Someone in a red security shirt was waving through the bridge port holes. "Priority – that bridge," she snapped. "Airlock with the porthole, give me forcible entry. Life pods better be ready to go, Merran." The ensign's nod was all she needed. "Crack that porthole before we lose more atmosphere in there."

Jo shouldered her EAR (emergency atmosphere repair) pack beside the standard med kit and prepared to go in as Lieutenant Salters flicked on the big shoulder-mounted plasma drill. It took him exactly two minutes and eleven seconds to drill through the ten inch thick transparent aluminium, one minute and nine seconds shorter than it should (and Jo made a mental note to check their equipment again to make sure it was Bobby-approved because if that augmented drill blew up in Salters' face, he was going to be very, very dead).

Jo led the surge onto the bridge, immediately slapping an oxygen mask on a blood-spattered, dazed John Winchester. "Get him on the shuttle," she ordered Merran. The kid was one of the few younger officers who would whack her former professor over the head if necessary. Jo's eyes swept the bridge, assessing the situation. Major crack over the science station. Castiel, sprawled on the floor at an awkward angle. Security ensign from the _Constitution _having a meltdown in the corner. Lieutenant from engineering doing her damned best to corral the situation and look after a lieutenant-commander who was bleeding profusely from the head. "Salters, seal that crack. Adams, look after that lieutenant-commander. Thom, I want that lieutenant on the shuttle yesterday. Cas." She slapped her friend's face gently. When he blinked, she assigned him his own mask and checked her tricorder. He hadn't suffered spinal injuries or anything terribly major but he had smacked his head pretty good.

"Stars," he muttered and she heard the pop-hiss of Salters restoring hull integrity for now at least. Jo allowed herself the luxury of laughing at Castiel, who looked vaguely irritated at the pretty sparkly bursts impeding his vision. "Have to pilot the warbird."

"I hate to break it to you," she drawled as she pushed him to a sitting position, "but this bird ain't going anywhere anytime soon."

"My fault?" he asked in confusion and she pressed her lips together in consternation.

"Absolutely not, you idiot. Go with Merran," Jo ordered when she saw the ensign charge through their improvised door. "They need you on the _Impala_," she improvised when it looked like Cas was going to argue more and Merran picked up on Jo's train of thought.

"Come on sir," she encouraged. "Commander Ash accidentally reversed your pilot's controls again. Something about not letting Commander Winchester pilot injured."

The idea of his precious controls being mangled by his best friend got Castiel on his feet again, heading towards the shuttle with single-minded determination.

"Salters," Jo began when she saw Cas safely onto the shuttle, "what about the rest of the ship?"

The big lieutenant shook his head slowly. "Sir, the only pressurized area of the ship is the bridge. There's one life sign down by the escape pods but we can't get there via shuttle."

"_Like Lucifer planned for only the bridge crew to have the slightest chance at survival," _Sam broke in from the _Impala_. Jo had to agree. _"Couldn't risk completely killing off the interesting people."_ The bitterness in Sam's voice was new and Jo privately resolved to kick her captain's ass if he didn't set his little brother straight, insubordination or no.

"Sir?" she asked in the meantime. If it were up to her, she'd head straight for that life pod.

There was a pause. A captain had to think of everyone and Jo decided she never ever wanted Dean Winchester's job. _"We've got _Los Angeles, Washington _and_ Enterprise_ heading to this location to aid with the rescue effort," _he finally replied slowly. _"We should have enough firepower to cover you if the baddies show up early. Go for it but be _careful._"_

Jo breathed a sigh of relief. "Everyone pressurized?" she asked. When her team replied affirmative, she nodded towards the elevator. "Get it open, Salters. Jones, take that shuttle back to the _Impala_. We won't need you for at least ten minutes."

It was a miserable job, using the jets on their suits to move through the shattered debris of an unfamiliar ship, bumping into familiar shreds of uniforms and in some cases bits of people, people they might have known, as they headed towards that one life sign.

"We're getting close," Jo said with desperate hope in her voice as she gently pushed a disconnected arm in a blue sleeve. They needed to know that this would be a success, that they had suffered this horror for a tangible reason.

She bumped up against a blocked corridor. "I need an alternate route," she announced. Yates, in charge of maps, swallowed audibly. "Do not tell me this is the only way in," Jo demanded. When no one replied, she growled. "Plasma drill."

"It's dead."

Jo gritted her teeth. Eight minutes and counting. Enemy could show up anytime. "Suggestions, sir?"

"_Back up and book it around to the outside. Sammy'll get you in._" The frustration in her captain's voice said he'd had it up to the ceiling with being a victim and Jo let herself grin in the privacy of her helmet. She didn't quite know what he had in mind but it seemed the Winchesters were swinging back into the saddle and she was tagging along for the ride.

When she realized what he had in mind, that grin grew to shit-eating proportions.

The _Impala_ had swung around and she let a gleeful Merran chalk a six by six foot X on the appropriate section of wall. "You're sure you installed the pods on the inside walls?" Jo demanded of their quartermaster. The small, efficient man managed a gurgle of indignation over the radio. She really shouldn't bait him like that – he ran a tight ship and dealt with a crew who played fast and loose with procedure, but everyone was nervous.

"In that case, we're clear, Sam. You're okay to fire." The security team was floating rather disturbingly close to the mark but they weren't worried. They had evidence that even exhausted, drunk and thoroughly distracted, Commander Winchester shot a phaser as accurately as he used his knives. Another mental note: Jo had to get him to tell her where he'd gotten his new butterfly knife.

The phaser hissed out at drilling intensity and melted a nice round hole in the wall. "Go, go, go," Jo urged her team, keeping her eyes peeled outside the ship. Someone had to make sure the Romulans didn't sneak up on them. Four minutes and thirteen seconds later, they reappeared, dragging the pod with them. "Communications?" she asked, frowning at the big dent near the pod's external console.

"Busted," Yates reported. "We had to pry the thing out from under a bulkhead."

Jo could only imagine the claustrophobic terror racing through the person in the pod. She'd hated that part of training at the academy. "Move out where a shuttle can pick us up," she ordered. "Unless the transporter's up?"

"_Negative," _Sam replied and it seemed like Jo didn't have to kick Dean's ass because Sam sounded worlds brighter than he had before. _"Shuttle's on the way."_

"Yates, I want to at least be able to talk to whoever's in that pod. Get on it." The commander nodded and clipped his line to the pod, reeling himself in close as the rest of the team pushed the pod out into open space.

"_Anyone there?"_ a small voice asked a brief time later.

"Shari?" Jo demanded.

"_Jo? Really?"_ The normally-perky alpha shift scientist's voice was pathetically desperate.

"Yep, me. Your garden-variety security super-hero," Jo joked despite the fact that her world had just tried to tilt out from under her. They had considered leaving _Shari _behind, someone Jo was friends with. "Shari, I promise we're going to get you out of there, okay? We're almost to the _Impala _now."

Then the _Los Angeles _popped out of warp and a transporter beam snapped up the security team and the pod.

* * *

_Impala_

"Like Lucifer planned for only the bridge crew to have the slightest chance at survival. He couldn't risk completely killing off the interesting people." Sam looked like someone had drowned a puppy and it was pissing. Dean. off.

First things first – did Jo rescue the pod? Dean briefly considered all the factors and decided he'd lost too damn many people today. "We've got _Los Angeles, Washington _and _Enterprise _heading to this location to aid with the rescue effort. We should have enough firepower to cover you if the baddies show up early. Go for it but be _careful_." With that in mind, he turned to the next big problem on his plate.

"You know he's just jealous," Dean began as Ash did his best invisible man impression at his console. Come on Sammy, bite, Dean begged internally. Curiosity killed the Sam but satisfaction brought him back.

"I doubt Lucifer's jealous of a Miranda-class first officer," Sam muttered and Dean mentally cheered. Score one for the Dean Winchester team.

"I bet he is."

Sam swivelled around in his wheelchair. "You're talking stupid."

"You're stupid," Dean retorted and returned to his original point. "I'll bet you the _Impala_ Lucifer's a jealous, jealous bastard."

Two wide-eyed gazes locked onto their captain. Ash had clearly forgotten he wasn't technically there, because if Dean was betting the _Impala_, even to his brother, then he was damn serious.

"Expound," Sam said neutrally, settling back in his chair to listen.

"Simple. Remember what I said?" Dean asked, mentally wincing at the thought. He had been deliberately, almost needlessly cruel to his kind-hearted little brother when he had demanded "What are you going to do if entire solar systems die because you couldn't let me do what was necessary?" That particular phrase was going to haunt Dean for a very, very long time.

Sam's eyes shuttered. "Yeah."

"Like I said, I'll bet you the _Impala_ Lucifer would give the galaxy to feel that sort of emotion." He watched in fond amusement as oh-so-bright Sam tried to puzzle that particular sentiment out. Even geniuses had their dull moments. "Of course you're never going to get the bastard to admit it," Dean acknowledged, "but this whole plunge the Federation into damnation and hellfire is the only way Lucifer can feel any sort of emotion. He'd never get bored if he lived your life, Sam."

"So what, Lucifer's jealous of me like some petty kid?" Sam demanded incredulously.

"Exactly. Sam, you're as smart as he is but you're not bored. Not terminally bored, anyway. You're damn close to him in intelligence and that's what makes him superior to everyone around him. Because it makes him better, that's all he cares about but on an intrinsic level, he knows he's lacking. Intelligence is paramount, but it also makes him so bored he ends up hating that very same intelligence. Therefore, he hates _you_ because you've got what he hasn't."

There was a very long pause in which Dean preened. He wasn't just some lunk-headed captain who spent his spare time in engineering. He knew he was damn good with people when he tried.

"Which is why," he continued after a moment, not giving Sam a chance to regroup, "I said what I said. I knew it would get you out of a situation I didn't want you in."

Yep, there it was. A spark had kindled in Sam's eye, one that was rapidly flaring into an inferno.

"_Salters, what about the rest of the ship?"_ Jo unknowingly interrupted. Unabashedly running away from a healthily furious Sam, Dean tuned into Jo's voice. When Jo turned to him for orders, Dean glanced at his brother. Sam could punch a hole in that wall precisely enough to mount an operation, especially now that he was just as pissed as Dean. Not at the right target, but hey, it was a work in progress.

"Back up and book it around to the outside. Sammy'll get you in. Hey Bobby, the phasers are still up, right?" When the grumpy engineer informed Dean that the phasers were about the only thing working at full capacity as per the idiot captain's orders, Dean grinned.

Sam glared at his brother but obligingly chased Ash away from the targeting computer.

"Hey Sam," Dean called quietly. "I have my priorities. I won't say I'm sorry for them either."

Sam's mouth screwed up funny, almost like the big girl was going to cry, but he nodded grimly and Dean knew it was going to be all right eventually. Probably after Sam belted him again in the face. Anticipating that, Dean wiggled his jaw experimentally. He hoped he was wrong. The kid had a mean right cross.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"_Enterprise_ hailing _Impala_, how bad is it?"

Instead of feeling despair or dread as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jim Kirk felt a rather irrational anger welling up in him as Uhura softly informed him that the _Impala_'s view screen was still out of commission.

"_Bad enough,"_ Dean replied calmly. _"Six survivors. John Winchester, Luke Castiel, Shari Wells, T'Pilk, Ben Stark and Emily Sorenson. Is this pissing you off yet Kirk?"_

Kirk stared straight ahead at his blank view screen, a muscle pulsing along his bruised jaw. "I've been pissed for a while, Winchester. Acting like a victim's just not me."

"_I hear ya."_

"_Glad to hear you _girls_ are reaching the same conclusion because I have a plan,"_ Gibbs interrupted as the _Washington _dropped out of warp behind the _Impala_.

"_Make it fast. I've got six Romulans on my ass,"_ Callen chipped in.

"_The more, the merrier,"_ Gibbs replied easily, almost cheerfully. _"You youngsters know what a shotgun is?"_

"_I like shotguns,"_ Winchester admitted gleefully. There was an amused snort on the _Impala _line. _"Shaddup, Sammy."_ Jim tried not to grin like an idiot at the sound of Sam Winchester back on track.

Gibbs laid out the plan.

It was definitely impossible.

It was thoroughly destructive.

The captains liked it.

* * *

_Washington_

The worst part about the plan, Gibbs reflected to himself, was that it would put him out of the action. Admittedly the _Washington_ had the best chance of surviving solo – they had taken the least amount of damage.

He supervised the transfer of life pods from the _LA _to the big hold even as the star base reluctantly bowed to the will of four pissed star ship captains. The idea that the base would most likely cease to exist in five hours had done much to encourage the stuffy commander that he really would like to accept berth on the _Washington_. Of course, the kids thought this was a huge adventure, scrambling through state rooms as white-faced, fearful teachers tried to control their charges. "We have enough life pods for each and every kid on this ship?" Gibbs demanded.

"_Three hundred and twelve. Enough for the kids, their teachers and the starbase crew,"_ Callen confirmed. Most of them came to the _Washington _via the _Enterprise_, who admittedly had extras courtesy of their 45% capacity crew.

"Then we're going to make a break for it. Thanks for the donation, _Impala_."

"_You'd better freakin' appreciate it. Bobby's going to nail my ass to the wall," _Winchester grumbled.

Gibbs allowed himself a quick smirk. "Suck it up, buttercup." There was a second of sputtering before Gibbs nodded to Ziva, who cut the connection. "Maximum warp, Dinozzo. Let's get these kids home."

"_Better get going,"_ Kirk suggested. _"We've got incoming."_

Gibbs knew the explosion had been set, the fuse lit when he caught Dean Winchester's final words.

"_Let's do this." _


	16. How to Use a Shotgun

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS or NCIS:LA.

Hi. I owe you all an _enormous_ apology. This update is very, very, _very_ late. In my defense, a new job with a demanding training period (that is not over yet), moving not once but twice in a single month, some serious family drama, a wedding in a different province and then food poisoning really put a cramp in my writing style. Still. I'm sorry. I don't really get mad when a writer drops off the map, but I do find it very irritating when an author leaves without a word so if this happens again, please know it's not because I got bored or skipped away without reason. It's usually because life reared up to bite me in the ass.

As recompense…all I have to say is that this chapter is going to be _good _(In my humble opinion, at least). I'll be impressed if anyone spots the ninja-sneaky reference to a certain anime.

* * *

_Captains Collective_

The entire plan hinged on timing – just like a shotgun.

You see, a shotgun is a deceptively simple weapon. Load it up with the ammunition of your choice, point it in the direction of whatever you want to perforate and pull the trigger once, perhaps twice. It will obediently blast away.

To _use_ a shotgun effectively though is an entirely different proposition. It requires experience, steady nerves and discernment. It's not a phaser or even a machine gun – a shotgun has limited ammunition and when it runs out, you'd better hope you have a) time to reload, b) back-up or c) the ability to use the damn thing like a club.

Use a shotgun just right and the fight's usually over before it really begins.

According to Gibbs, their 'shotgun' had one slim window, three shots and the potential for destruction no matter who won and who lost.

* * *

_Impala_

"This is the stupidest thing we have ever done, bar none," Sam muttered under his breath, sore arm complaining as he feverishly stripped wire and rerouted circuit boards.

"Stupider than exploding a sun?" Dean quipped and Sam kicked his brother's ankle.

"Yes, stupider than exploding a sun."

"Stupider than trusting a Goauld System Lord?"

"Dean, we are not SG-1. And this is definitely stupider than trusting a Goauld System Lord. I can say that with absolute certainty because Daniel told me how that particular gambit turned out."

The _Impala_ shuddered and Dean glanced over his shoulder. "Ash?"

"_Los Angeles_ let that one slip through man, you'd better get moving," the navigator confirmed. "I don't want to have to yank Cas out of the infirmary any earlier than we have to."

"I still can't believe we're doing this," Sam continued to complain. "Trusting alpha shift's food replicator weapons to defend this ship is retarded."

Dean considered kicking his brother in retaliation but withheld the urge when he spotted fine lines of pain still etched around Sam's mouth. The Sasquatch was distracting himself through bitching. Dean could let it go. It'd be funny in a week when Dean played back the recording showing Sam that he had, in fact, been the one to suggest alpha shift's crazy inventions.

"Dude, how is liquid phaser pasta not awesome?" Dean asked, clearly expecting no argument from anyone on the bridge.

"Liquid phaser pasta?" Castiel asked quizzically as he limped onto the bridge, white gauze taped to his forehead. He could almost hear Sam rolling his eyes under the console.

"That's what Shari's calling it. Technically, the name is – " Sam's diatribe cut off with a surprised yelp as Dean shoved him back into his hoverchair.

"Stay there. Out of trouble. Cas, we're pulling a bait and switch. Kind of."

Without turning a hair at the decidedly sketchy explanation, Castiel settled into his customary seat, running bruised hands over battered controls with hungry anticipation. "What do you need me to do?"

Dean grinned madly. "Fly into the teeth of hell shooting liquid phaser pasta."

Cas shrugged with beautiful unconcern.

"Very well."

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Ready?" Kirk demanded over the comm.

"_Aye,"_ Scotty replied mournfully. _"If ye don't mind me sayin' capt'n, this is one of your crazier plans."_

Kirk grinned. "Why don't you come right out and say it, Scotty? This is one of our stupider plans and if we pull it off, Starfleet's going to be pissed as hell."

"_I'll thank ye to remember t'was yourself that said it, not me, sir."_

The flagship captain was practically bouncing in his seat, blue eyes snapping madly as the final team returned to the ship. "_LA_, stand by to make your run. _Impala_, you're free and clear to broadcast. Light up this corner of space like it's the Fourth of July. Let Lucifer's idiots know we're toothless and ripe for the taking."

With that cue, space chatter exploded from the three ships, all blabbering about incoming enemies and failing defences and kids in trouble and how the world was generally coming to an end around them. The warbirds that had been chasing the _Los Angeles_ arrived at almost that exact moment, lending credibility to the Starfleet freak-out taking place. Chaff filled the space around them, little glittering bits of debris clouding sensors all around and baffling the Romulans, who immediately called for their allies to show up and eliminate the Federation scum.

Soon the three Starfleet ships were almost completely surrounded.

Kirk's jaw ached from tension as he waited, waited, waited. Gibbs had suggested the _Enterprise_ captain be the one to direct the operation, knowing that of all the commanders present, Kirk still felt the most drive for success. Callen wasn't as emotionally invested and Dean too focused on revenge. Kirk was still chasing a successful rescue of the _Impala_. For him, this mission ended when the _Impala_ was docked safely at Starfleet Command and he would see it happen, come hell, high water or the devil himself.

So Kirk was given command, given the privilege of waiting until almost the entire fleet surrounded them, waiting until his bridge was humming with anticipation and a decent dose of fear. Only an idiot or a liar would claim to be fearless at this point in time.

Wait. Let the trap close fully. Draw them in, just like a spider.

When even Spock glanced over at his captain, Kirk broke through the now-frantic 'pretend' communications that undoubtedly had the Romulans licking their chops.

"_Now."_

* * *

_Los Angeles_

"Go," Callen snapped and Hetty slapped a small hand down, activating the program set to a hair's trigger. Deeks sat back with his hands hovering just over his console in anticipation as the _Los Angeles_ screamed around, the big ship hurtling along its pre-plotted course with inhuman and uncaring speed. Her crew sat strapped in, their teeth rattling in their heads as she ran with everything in her.

* * *

_Impala_

The _Impala_ beat both the _Enterprise _and the _Los Angeles _in their mad dash for open space.

"Cas, now!" Dean barked from Ash's console. Working in tandem with the _LA _and _Enterprise_ pilots, they worked seamlessly as the hidden weapons came into play. Remotely piloted shuttles roared out of their hiding spots under the silent, empty starbase. Power had been diverted from every major system except shields, propulsion and weapons. Life support had been the first casualty.

The shuttles-turned-missiles, all fifteen of them, bewildered the enemy for a split second until one intrepid enemy fired first, disruptor fire spattering off an _Enterprise_ shuttle with its usual effectiveness, spurring a barrage of fire. Shuttles started dropping like flies but Dean hissed in triumph when four enemies shied away from the kamikaze shuttles. When the figurative smoke cleared, almost every enemy had taken some form of damage. As expected, that only enraged the Romulans, who charged into the sensor-blurring chaff.

Alpha shift came through brilliantly.

They had taken Spock's concept of chaff and integrated it into a series of lethally small mines specifically targeted to reach through shields and disable sensors with a unique electromagnetic pulse.

Ship after ship ploughed through the minefield, seemingly without any effect until they all drifted to a puzzled halt, sensors off-line or haywire, most vessels circling cautiously around the silent, darkened space station.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Do it," Kirk ordered.

Spock flicked a switch.

The space station ignited, hot-wired power plants and electrical systems booby-trapped with photon torpedoes spewing death, destruction and liquid fire all over the Federation's enemies with impunity. Blast after blast shattered metal and shield alike, belching hot anger over the Romulan ships, whose captains had clearly been expecting the usual, typically harmless Federation base.

When the skeleton of the star base finally decided to give up the ghost, the _Impala, Los Angeles _and _Enterprise_ circled back around to finish the job.

The entire operation had taken three and a half minutes. They hadn't even needed the liquid phaser pasta.

Just like a shotgun. Loud, messy and brutally over in the blink of an eye.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"_I'm going to track down the _Washington_ and make sure she's still in one piece,"_ Callen volunteered. _"While I'm not crazy about leaving you to limp along on your own, Gibbs has a ship full of kids." _

"We get it," Kirk replied tiredly. "Go. I think we can scare off any more Romulans stupid enough to pick a fight with two Federation ships surrounded by twenty two ruined warbirds."

Callen's mouth quirked in a humourless grin. _"You have a point." _The _LA_ skipped away a minute later, leaving the _Impala_ and the _Enterprise_ to catch their breaths for the first time in…who knew how long, Kirk mused to himself as he watched his crew move off the bridge like zombies. They were all exhausted, battered and bruised. It was almost at the point where if an enemy showed up, Kirk would just laugh hysterically and crawl under his bunk to hide.

"Winchester, you need anything at the moment?"

"_A case of beer, a really big steak and Lucifer's head on a platter, but I'll settle for drugs." _

Kirk couldn't muster the energy to grin. "Pike says he's on his way with someone to get us back to Earth."

"_Oh goody. Then they can arrest us!"_ Yep, Dean was definitely getting punchy, that same hysterical exhaustion Kirk was suffering from cropping up in his friend's voice.

"Pretty sure Pike's pissed enough to keep us out of the serious clink."

"_Great. Then we can escape from the not-serious clink and go on the run with Mal, except only an idiot would take us on because we'd make the Federation's Most Wanted in no time flat."_

Kirk tipped his head back against his battered chair, staring up at the cracked bridge ceiling. Dean had a point, a very valid one. Mal would be sympathetic, would want to help, but definitely would not want them hanging around the _Serenity. _After all, Mal had people to protect just like Jim and Dean. "Got a better plan?" he demanded hotly, surprising himself with a spurt of anger.

"Both of you idiots need to have a little more faith," a gruff voice barked, startling the captains. Bones looked like his titular skeleton, his skin grey and hands trembling, bags under his eyes deep enough to get lost in. But the doctor carefully checked over his captain and ran a remote scan over the _Impala_'s counterpart. "I may not like brass but Pike's a damn decent man and you two just racked up enough for him to monkey around to fit Federation goals. On top of that, Vance isn't going to let two of his best ships sink, not when the four of you just saved an entire starbase of kids."

"Yeah, by blowing it up," Kirk pointed out.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "What else are they going to expect, a sunshine-filled romp through daisies and petunias in which you conquer the Romulans with the power of love and peace?"

The scarring image planted in their heads by the pragmatic doctor had both captains gaping for a minute before Dean disappeared from the screen, howling with laughter. Kirk joined him a minute, relief pitching the sound almost towards mania. "D-d-d-aisies!" Kirk managed to sputter.

"_L-l-love and p-p-peace?" _Dean added, bona-fide mirth chasing the doctor as Bones stalked towards the elevator in feigned high dudgeon.

When the door swished shut behind him, McCoy heard Dean suggest something crazily stupid about planning contingency plans involving the unused liquid phaser pasta.

They'd be all right until tomorrow when John woke up to take over shepherding the idiots, a weary McCoy decided. The peace would hold until then.

* * *

_Washington_

Carrying their precious cargo safely, the _Washington_ ripped into Earth space with little regard for the ponderous trade traffic that usually clogged the Milky Way system. "Tell 'em to get the hell out of the way," was Gibb's stoic reply to Ziva's inquiries. She did so with vitriolic glee, Dinozzo swearing under his breath until the zippy Miranda-class ship finally screeched to a halt beside the mass-transport depot on Mars.

"Get those kids off the ship _now_ and prepare to defend against pursuers!" Gibbs ordered sharply. McGee and Ducky had every single child and civilian prepped for immediate cargo-transport in their individual life pods and they were safely whisked into a very surprised Mars cargo transporter pad.

The _Washington _whirled to dish out abuse on the four warbirds brave enough to chase the ship all the way to Earth itself. "No Federation casualties," Gibbs ordered calmly. "I want this mopped up without trouble."

His crew did just that in remarkable short order, just in time for the _Potemkin_ to show up.

"_We're here to help – " _Captain Poole began.

"You're late." Gibbs interrupted bluntly. "Make yourself useful and pick up the prisoners while I go figure out what happened to the _Impala_, _Enterprise_ and _Los Angeles_."

"_We're also supposed to take you into custody,"_ the _Potemkin_'s captain added awkwardly.

The _Washington_ crew blinked several times in amusement as Gibbs' mouth quirked up in a wry grin. "Really. You and what army? Dinozzo, get us out of here."

"_You shouldn't be able to do that. You're just a Miranda-class captain," _Poole complained, knowing he was talking to empty space.

The _Washington_ was gone.

* * *

_Constitution – Three days later…_

"Come back to see me, Admiral Pike?" Lucifer asked with painful curiosity. "Have you finally pulled all the corpses from the twisted wreckage of your precious ships?"

"Sorry to disappoint," Kirk drawled. "The admiral had better things to do. So did Captain and Commander Winchesters. Something about another commendation? Apparently if you save several Federation politicians' children, they don't give a damn what you blow up in the process, up to and including twenty odd Romulan ships and a star base."

Lucifer sat rooted to the spot for a minute but Kirk didn't relax or bask in his temporary victory. This was their most dangerous enemy yet and he wasn't so easily defeated.

"So," the half-Romulan said on a slow exhale after a few minutes. "You've managed to surprise me, you and your little band of rag-tag heroes. You squashed my little mess of cockroaches. Now what?"

Kirk leaned against the trim of the cell block's door. "If I had my way? You'd be dead. But I'm not in charge. So you go to stand trial. Seems you've got nine lives."

The being in the cell stood, placing two gentle hands against the snapping, stinging security screen. "Or I'm just…impossible." Kirk inclined his head. Acknowledging the enemy's capabilities is half of defeating him. "Prison won't hold me," Lucifer promised with a sweet and deadly coldness. "You and everyone who has hindered my plans will die in screaming agony from the most junior ensign right up to Sam Winchester himself. You'll spend your lives looking over your shoulders, dogged by misfortune until you finally beg me to let you slit your own throat."

Kirk stepped into the room until his nose hovered half a centre from that same security screen. "Dean Winchester sends you a message: Rot in hell."

Lucifer lifted his hands away from the screen, skin irritated lime green. "Why not?" he whispered. "Then I'll know exactly where to put each of you when I come back."

Kirk shrugged carelessly and strode out of the brig.

He shuddered as soon as he stepped away from Lucifer's line of sight.

* * *

_One month later – Lucifer's trial_

As expected, the Federation made Lucifer's trial very quick, very thorough and very public. He, Alistair and a whole host of Romulan prisoners, all abandoned by their government after some nasty posturing by the Admiralty, stood to lose everything except their lives, which would be regulated to extreme boredom in isolation. The accused never appeared in the courtroom, locked down in the very bowels of Pluto's solitary super-max prison. Starfleet officer after Starfleet officer testified to actions taken, backed up by hour after hour of footage taken where possible by Spock, Sam and Hetty, who had anticipated this course of events.

Finally, Starfleet law demanded that each of the accused show up for their sentencing.

The Romulan prisoners were each data-chipped deep in their skeletal system for easy tracking and returned to their home-space. If they survived their government's retaliation, the Federation would know where they were at all times.

Alistair and Lucifer, however, weren't wanted by the Romulans. They would stay in Federation space. The leader and his toady arrived without incident on a day when the four captains involved in the incident were scattered across the galaxy at their admirals' orders.

Sentencing was being pronounced when a guard groaned and keeled over at the back of the courtroom. In the brief blink of confusion, Lucifer ducked behind a pillar in the old courtroom and simply vanished.

A phaser stream hissed out and Alistair collapsed, a round black hole bored in his head.

* * *

"Did you get him?"

The sniper shook his head. "He never showed to any of the six vantage points. Apologies."

The captain shrugged. "Figures. I thought he was too smart to expose himself like that."

The sniper patted a worn, loved phaser rifle. "Got the Romulan bastard though."

The captain nodded sharply. "It's a good start. We'll just keep our eyes open for Lucifer. A man like that won't hide forever. He'll have to kill again and when he tries we'll be waiting."

_How far would you go to rescue/protect/defend/save a friend?_

_The End_

* * *

It ends like this for a reason (minus the usual happy end scene and all). I wanted to make a point. Please don't kill the author and no I'm not skimping on the end because I'm still busy. There are evil, evil plans floating around in my head. It might be a few weeks (I'm going to sort out said evil plans and go beat up life so I have more time to write) but then the boys will be back. Even Lucifer. Possibly a few newbies :D


End file.
